


The Mindsifter

by Khrysalis



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Gen, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-04-15
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 75,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khrysalis/pseuds/Khrysalis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is injured, hunted, and wordless. Those who care for him search for him, and time is passing and hope is dying. But even should they find him, how can they repair his shattered mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wordless

Running was life. Hiding too.

They were the only things he remembered. In his mind, it was all he had ever done.

It was always dark. He was afraid of the darkness and yet glad for it because it helped him to hide. It was also always wet, and the living stone that made up the walls, floor and sky was always covered with moss. The muffled wetness silenced his footsteps.

He shivered in the cold air. He was always cold. He had no shirt, and he was barefoot. He wore the ratty, tattered remnants of a hakama that had once been white. It did little more than preserve what pitiful dignity he had left, and certainly offered him no warmth.

Staying small and silent, he crouched as he made his way through a narrow corridor. There was light coming from somewhere. He was fearful of light, because light usually meant people, and people usually meant him harm. Still, he had survived this long by peeking in on strange lights. Sometimes his broken mind could understand if he could associate the people with kindness. Sometimes there were people who were gentle and offered him food and a chance to get warm.

The tunnel he crept through dipped low, revealed below that there was indeed a fire and just two people sitting near it, kindling it dry, dead moss and bits of wood. They seemed to have a little dwelling there as well. A deep groove in the stone, like a cave. He saw rags and tattered blankets folded neatly inside.

The occupants of the area were an old man and woman, who, unlike him, were dressed warmly, even if their clothes were badly worn out. He found that he remembered them. His shattered thoughts came together for a moment, helping him remember these two had showed him kindness on several occasions.

Taking a deep breath, he moved cautiously toward them.

The old woman saw him first, and smiled gently at him. "Look, Daisuke. It's the boy again. He's come back."

The man turned. The sudden movement made him want to turn and run back down the corridor where he had come, but the woman called to him in a gentle voice, evidently having dealt with him many times before.

"No, Boy. It's all right. Look." Moving slowly to avoid frightening him, she stooped over her fire and picked up a dry hunk of old bread and held it out so he could see. "We have a lot extra today, Son. I have an egg I could boil for you as well. Come on, it's okay."

He moved toward her hesitantly. He was afraid, as always, but the fear lessened as he found her more and more familiar. He reached out and took the bread from her hand.

He was very, very hungry. Instinct screamed at him. He wanted to cram the bread into his mouth to ease the pain of hunger, and the weakness and dizziness that came with it, and so that the woman wouldn't have time to change her mind and take the food back.

For some reason, though, he hesitated again. He looked at the stale hunk of bread in his hands, and then back at the woman, and flicked his gaze to the man, Daisuke, then back to the bread again. These people had so very little, and they were offering their food to him. Somehow, he felt like he didn't deserve their kindness.

He sucked in his bottom lip, damming up tears, as he very carefully tore off a small piece of the bread and held out the larger piece back to the woman.

She shook her head, looking back at him. "No. No, Boy. We have plenty. We have enough to share with you. Please take it."

He realized she was looking like she might cry. He was confused, but he certainly didn't want to make the kind woman feel bad. Slowly he placed some of the dry bread in his mouth and was rewarded with a smile. He couldn't help but to smile back, glad that he had made her happy.

He fell asleep by their warm fire, and when he woke while they still slept in their little cave he crept away, not wishing to lead those who chased him straight to the kind old couple.

A few hours later, hiding in the darkness, he forgot about them once again. He could only hold onto the memories he needed to survive: run and hide.

 


	2. Sanosuke's Journal

　

_Kenshin, I'm tired. You have no idea just how very, very tired I am. Everything around me seems to wilt, lifeless._

_Jou-chan goes about daily routines. She very rarely smiles. She never laughs. Yahiko is even worse. He only seems to speak when spoken to, and his training and chores are unfocused and angry. After meals he vanishes to be alone. Even I can't get a rise out of him._

_Megumi doesn't visit much anymore. What's the point? She has patients to look after and has no medicine that would treat the fear and pain in our hearts, and looking at us makes it even harder to deal with her own._

_Seven months. Seven months of this living hell. Seven months of watching hope die slowly in two people that I love. Seven months of not knowing what happened to the man I respect the most and consider a brother._

_Kenshin…_

_I haven't exactly moved into the Kamiya dojo, but I do spend most of my time here now. Just in case… In case of what? In case you might come back? In case…in case_ he _came back?_

_Most of the time I just sit on the porch, replaying what happened in my mind. Dinnertime._

_Yahiko and I were arguing, about what I don't remember. The food, probably. You were sitting across from us, grinning. I had paused in my argument with the brat to tease you too, but you just shook your head. Too self-deprecating to argue, I guess._

_I just…don't remember our conversation. Whenever I replay that night in my head, I see our mouths moving, the dinnerware banging on the table, but there is no sound. I can remember your face well, Kenshin. You had such a content expression on your face. You looked just so…_ content _. What other way is there to describe it? At the time, I had berated myself for becoming so sentimental, but I know you, my friend, have been through a lot. It was…nice to see you happy, to see you enjoy just being with us._

_Kaoru had caught my gaze and smiled. She was thinking the same thing._

_Then, the silent scene in my head gains sound as I remember the knocking on the door. Wondering who it could be, Kaoru got up and went to check. I remember a strange look came over your face, and you got up quickly to follow. As did Yahiko and I._

_Our visitor was a young man. He didn't look like he could be more than fourteen or fifteen, and I remember the first impression I had was how very tired he looked. His shoulders sagged, and there were deep bags under his eyes. His hair was sandy and shaggy. His eyes were bloodshot and ice blue._

_Then the memory loses sound again… Kaoru's mouth moves, probably asking what she could do for him. Things happened slowly, ended quickly._

_The young man held up this weird little toy. It was a network of strings with shards of crystals and bits of glass hanging from the strings. He twirled the clinking mass of it and…_

… _I couldn't MOVE!_

_It was worse than when Udo Jin-e had used his_ shin no ippo _on me before. Then, I had been able to move and speak with a force of will, and even break it. This was…different. There were no bonds holding me. It was more of great, tired feeling that robbed me of the will to move, that shoved it just into the back of my eyes where at least I could still control my thoughts._

I looked at you, and you were as still as Yahiko and Kaoru. Your eyes moved, though. They widened in shock, and then narrowed in fury. You felt what I felt.

_The boy, still holding up the crystals and strings, moved slowly, dragging one foot behind him as he moved. I saw the limb was twisted slightly from some old injury. If I could have only moved, I'd have done the same to his other leg._

_He reached out and slid your sakabato from your belt and, moving to Kaoru, he reached out for her right hand, and closed her fingers around the sheath._

" _I'm sorry," he was saying. He looked at you. "You are about to suffer more than any human should ever suffer for anything, no matter the crime. I've kept no grudge against you, but for those that do, I at least have control over one thing: I won't allow any harm to come to your friends. At least our revenge won't be through the suffering of those you care about."_

_I saw your eyes widen. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but there was nothing. No impulse would go through my arms. I couldn't even make a fist._

_The boy, still holding his toy high and carefully making sure we could all still see it, moved to the middle of the room. "I'm allowed to leave you with two things: an assurance and a clue. The assurance is that he isn't going to die." The boy snorted, the little bastard seeming almost…pained. "Although death would be better than what's going to happen to him. And the clue-"_

_To make the whole matter utterly surreal the boy actually began to tell us a story! A fairy tale, for God's sake! It was so ludicrous…yet even now, I can remember every word._

" _There was once a man named Dadairusu, who lived far away and a long time ago in the land called Greece. Dadairusu was a master craftsman and inventor. His brilliance was unmatched, his progress unchecked. But he had a single sorrow: his son, Ikarusu. Dadairusu loved his son dearly, but Ikarusu did not share his father's brilliance. The boy tried, but his mind was not quick and sharp, and his hands were clumsy, prone to break things that required gentle handling._

" _Dadairusu might have let this sad twist of fate slide and loved his son anyway, had it not been for the coming of his nephew, Taro. Taro showed incredible promise where Dadairusu's own son did not. Taro's hands were sure, and his mind may have even been brighter and more agile than even his uncle's._

" _Dadairusu should have been proud to have him as an apprentice…but he was not. He was angry at the injustice. Taro had the skill and talent that should have belonged to his own son, Ikarusu! What was more, Ikarusu knew this as well. The more time Taro spent showing Dadairusu his ideas and new inventions, the more Ikarusu became sad and withdrawn, yet while still trying to be an active part in the household._

" _Then one day Ikarusu's clumsy hands broke a mechanical toy that Taro had been working on. His cousin's patience snapped, and he ordered him from the workshop. As Ikarusu walked away in tears, Dadairusu was watching, and a great rage rose up in him. In a fit of grieving madness, the greatest inventor who ever lived dragged his nephew to the roof and threw him over the side."_

_The boy paused in his fairy tale, his eyes looking past us all, like he was watching it happening as he narrated it to us. Perhaps it was the power of the crystals on strings, or the pain in the boy's voice and the haunted look in his eyes, but my impotent anger didn't seem at that moment to be as important as his story…_

" _Dadairusu was horrified at what he had done and went willingly to be tried at court, and they banished him from his home city. He took his son and fled to another court, and served a king with a queen who had amorous longings for a white bull sent by the god of the sea._

" _He helped her fulfill her longings by constructing the body of a female cow out of wood in which she was able to reside while she was visiting the white bull. The result of these actions was a half-bull, half-man creature. Dadairusu had to create a monstrous maze prison to contain the beast, and the king had also found the maze to be very useful for getting rid of other people and things he never wanted to see again…_

" _Eventually the monster was slain by a hero who grew tired of the king demanding the tribute of youths from his city to feed it, and the king was so enraged by this and the fact the hero ran off with his only daughter, he threw the inventor and his son into the maze instead._

" _But of course Dadairusu, having created the maze himself, he knew his way around. Leaving the maze was a simple, if lengthy matter, and he and his son stayed for a while on the edge of the beach— for the maze was at the edge of the island— trying to think of a way off._

" _Dadairusu, through much research and toil, eventually created two pairs of giant wings that could carry him and his son off the island. As he strapped the wings onto the back of his son, he warned him firmly not to fly too close to the water, for the wings would get damp and make it difficult for him to fly, and not to fly too close to the sky, for the sun would melt the wax holding the wings together, and they would come apart._

" _But Ikarusu was not very bright, and he was so impressed with the exhilaration of flying he immediately forgot his father warnings and flew higher and higher into the sky. The sun destroyed his wings, and the boy fell into the sea, a sea which still bears his name, even now."_

_The boy's shoulders had sagged lower, the crystals on strings clinking together._

" _That man loved his son, and in his longing to love him even more through the boy's inadequacies, he literally loved him to death. The chain of events leading to this caused a lot of pain and monstrosities, including that terrible maze and the monsters and lost souls trapped within there still."_

_The storyteller trance was broken, and I struggled to move, but I was still held in place._

_He smiled sadly at us again. "The story I just told you has everything in it that you need to know to find Himura-san again, should you decide to look for him later. But I warn you against doing that now. If you…ever see him again after today…you won't even recognize him."_

_I'd had enough. Rage boiled up inside me, and just as I was sure whatever magic he was using on us couldn't constrain the scream inside me, the boy held up his toy and gave in two hard shakes. There were the sounds of the crystal and glass clacking together and a bright white light lit up behind my eyes as he began to spin it. The last thing I saw as the whiteness completely covered my vision were two big men coming in behind him. They were moving toward you._

_"Get away from him!" I tried to say. Maybe I did, since the boy turned to look at me. Then the whiteness turned into darkness._

_Kaoru, Yahiko, and I woke up in Megumi's clinic four days later with such monster headaches not one clear thought could pass through. Megumi and Doctor Oguni wanted to know what happened, wanting to know where you were, Kenshin._

_That's what we all want to know…_

_We went back to the dojo as quickly as we could gain our feet. Your gi and your tabi and sandals were in a heap on the floor where you had been standing. Your sakabato was still on the floor where Kaoru had fallen._

_At first, all of us in a burning rage set out to look for you. I even went to Kyoto to get the help of Aoshi and Misao and the Oniwabanshu. Right now they look for you while I sit in the damned dojo, waiting. I'd love to be with them, but it was obvious I was more of a hindrance than a help. As Aoshi questioned people, it was all I could do not to grab people and shake the knowledge out of them._

_The calmness in which he handled things, the subtleties, I can't stand it. Until he can find out where you are, my strength is useless._

_With nothing left to do, no way to help, nowhere else to look, Kaoru and Yahiko train, clean the dojo…watch the doorway, looking for Aoshi or you… Yeah, like you'd walk through that door, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly and saying something like, "This one is sorry it took so long to get back, everyone. But this one first had to turn his opponents good, and show them the error of their ways. They've changed for the better now, and they're coming to have dinner with us— "_

_And Kaoru would land a devastating right hook, Yahiko would be stomping you and slamming his bokken against your skull, and I might have to wait at least twenty minutes before I could get my own lumps in._

_I would give anything for that twenty-minute wait._

_Oh, God, Kenshin, I am so, so tired._

_Maybe it's the emotional stress combined with having to do the laundry. Damn all laundry, and whoever decided people need to wear so many clothes anyway. I have a good mind never to wash even my own clothes again, just buy new ones every month or so, because I've seen enough suds and water to last me a lifetime. It's just that…laundry was always your thing._

_It's such a familiar thing to see you doing, how could I let Kaoru or even Yahiko sit by_ your _well with_ your _baskets using_ your _soap? Knowing every moment they did our rurouni's favorite chore because you weren't there to do it. I could just see it: Kaoru would be in tears before she even touched the water. She is a determined person, and the laundry would be washed, but she'll just end up wetter than the clothes. And Yahiko…well, all I can really say is I don't really feel like fixing the washtub if he snapped and smashed it up in a grieving rage._

_So I guess this means I'm not a freeloader anymore, huh, Buddy?_

Kaoru carefully replaced the book, face burning with shame. She had only been straightening up a little, and had stumbled on a little book with dog-eared pages. She had no idea that Sano had kept a journal, but here it was. Sanosuke's neat handwriting filled the pages of a beat-up old book. That had been his last entry, written as if it was a letter to Kenshin.

"I'm tired too, Rooster Head," she whispered, wiping her eyes and making sure the book was secured in the folds of his futon, things looking as if she had never touched them.

She wandered back into the kitchen. There had been times when she had wondered what life would be like with Sano and Yahiko but without Kenshin…and she had spent the last seven months finding out.

If Kenshin had died in one of his many battles since coming to stay at the dojo, then they would have buried him. Kaoru would have lovingly tended his grave, planting flowers on it, making sure it was washed clean every morning. She would have eventually been able to draw strength from Kenshin's memories, his silly rurouni smile, his clumsiness— pretended or not. In time she might have been able to go on, mastered her sword art, trained her student, maybe even loved again. But never without his spirit following her wherever she went, watching over her.

If he had simply wandered away, she would have gone after him until she found him and brought him home again. She had done it before. She would do it again.

This, though…this was different. If he had died, he would be safe within her memory. If he had left, she would at least know that he was safe, free.

And now she knew for sure he wasn't. That boy had made it clear someone meant Kenshin harm. Every day it took effort not to imagine what those people could have done to him in all this time that passed.

Still, the boy had promised he would not die. As long as he was alive, there was always hope. Right?

" _The story I just told you has everything in it that you need to know to find Himura-san again, should you decide to look for him later. But I warn you against doing that now. If you…ever see him again after today…you won't even recognize him."_

"Oh, Kenshin..."

 


	3. Back in the Dark

"I've got him!"

Three men and a huge, hulking woman backed out of a crevice as their leader, Oaka, dragged out a small, skinny man with long hair.

He yelled nonsensically and fought like a wildcat, but he was weak from hunger and lack of rest, and his assailants outnumbered him.

" _Nnn-_! _Nnn-_!"

"Hold still!" Oaka complained, trying to get a better grip.

"Damn! He was hard to catch. We've been chasing him for almost two weeks now," the woman complained.

"Yeah, well, we've got him now. Let's get him to the rainbow room."

"It'll be nice to see light again," one of the men, the youngest, said with enthusiasm.

"Ka! Ker…keh…keh….k- _kaaa_!" Their prisoner still struggled violently, but his focus was on the word he was trying to speak. Curious, the burly woman leaned to look into his face, wondering what he was trying to say.

" _KAORUUUUU!"_

The sudden, powerful burst from his lungs startled his captors into loosening their grip. Faster than they'd ever seen another human move, he tore from their hold and vanished into the darkness.

Their shouts and heavy footfalls helped him avoid them and hide until their own weariness caused them to give up and go home.

The wretched soul they had been chasing, though, did not sleep. Arms wrapped tightly around his legs, he mumbled quietly to himself, tears running down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead into his knees. "K-kaoru…Kaoru…dono…Kaoru-dono…" he whispered, again and again and again… He had to remember the word. The name. He could not forget…could not forget…

><><><><><><><><><><

"Aoshi went to…Greece?"

"Yes, but he should be almost back by now."

"Why the hell didn't he tell us?"

Misao balanced the teacup on her open palms, staring into the murky liquid. She sighed deeply. Her once-huge reserves of energy were exhausted, and she was going to need an uninterrupted night’s sleep to get back on top of things, get back in the fighting spirit. After all, Kenshin still needed her help.

"Misao-chan?"

She looked up into Kaoru's wide, sad eyes. She repeated Sano's question: "Why didn't Aoshi tell us he was going to Greece?"

Misao shook her head, exasperated. "I don't know! Maybe for the same reasons he wouldn't let me come along. Maybe he didn't want to get our hopes up? Maybe he thought it was too dangerous? Maybe he thinks he's on a wild goose chase, but he's got to check it out anyway?" _Maybe he's found out Himura is dead, and he's traveled to Greece to bring his body home?_

She closed her mouth over the thought before it could be formed into words. Kenshin was _not_ dead. Even if she wouldn't trust anything his abductor said, being Oniwaban, she of all people knew there were worse ways to punish someone than death. Like burning out his eyes or cutting off his hands, or—

Sanosuke unwittingly rescued her from the onslaught of her own imagination by suddenly getting up and storming outside.

The teacup in Misao’s hands was creaking dangerously. She forced herself to loosen her grip.

"I didn't even think of it," Kaoru said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I didn't think of it. That Kenshin might have been taken to Greece. I mean…I should have thought of it. The young man told us that story, that Greek legend, saying it was a clue to find Kenshin. But still, I never considered they'd take him so far away…"

"But we don't know that they did."

"Then why would Aoshi bother to travel so far?"

Misao set down her cup, the tea inside stone cold. "A lot of crying has been done these past months. Mostly by you, Kaoru. You're more honest than I am. I can't even admit to myself that some nights my pillow seems a little damp."

The edge of Kaoru's mouth tweaked slightly at her remark, the barest shadow of a smile. Misao sighed once again, one from deep within her weariness. "I am completely, totally, utterly, and desperately dry of assurances or words of hope. So I won't bother to offer any this time. Everything that I can possibly say has already been said. So…" She placed her hand of Kaoru's and squeezed. "So all I can do now is tell you that I'm going to keep looking. I won't give up. Even if it takes me a thousand years, if I have to travel the entire world, one way or another, Himura is coming back to this dojo."

Taken aback by this sudden oath, Kaoru stammered, "M-Misao-chan, you don't…I mean— ”

"No, I mean it. I once told that fool that I wasn't going to let him get away with being miserable." Misao clenched her fists. "He once made a promise to me…"

Aoshi is no demon. Not just yet! He must have held himself back at the last instant. Maybe he didn't even realize it, but it shows that even if his conscious mind is following in the way of demons, his soul is still striving to be human. Aoshi's resting place is not death. It is here. And this one promises you that he will be brought back.

The words Kenshin had spoken that day were etched in her heart, and just like then, the words, spoken with his gentle voice, renewed her strength.

Her eyes burning with conviction, Misao looked at Kaoru and burst out: "He made a promise to me…and he kept it! Now I make you a promise, Kaoru-san. I promise you, Himura will be brought back!"

Kaoru stared at her for a moment. Then she smiled, her first real smile in a long, long time, though through fresh tears. Then she repeated the same words _she_ had said to Misao that day. "It's good to hear… right Misao-chan?"

"Yes," Misao answered, pulling Kaoru into a hug.

Yahiko, standing unnoticed at the back of the room brushed a sleeve across his eyes.

"Yes," he echoed quietly.

><><><><><><><><><><

"He got away again?"

"Yes. Even in the condition he's in, he’s very…wily.”

"He hasn't had a 'treatment' in a while, Tan. I don't care how you do it, but catch him. What's that look for?"

"Nothing, Hikaru. I'll…catch him."

"What is it, Tan? Feeling bad for what you've done?"

"You don't have to mock me."

"Well, if there was anyone else here to mock, I'd mock him instead. So you will have to do, my dear cousin. …All right, there's that look again. Would you like to tell me what you're thinking, or shall I go back to mocking?"

"We should have just killed him."

"Kill him? But this is so much more in the way of poetic justice."

"Hikaru…"

"It's true, Cousin! Years ago we had a chance to escape our fate, and it’s his fault we cannot! Therefore, I feel it's only fitting that before _we_ fall, _he_ falls. First. As far and low as any human being can fall."

"Is that the only reason you want revenge, Cousin? Because he unknowingly caused us to go the same way we've always gone? Destroying his mind and causing him to crawl on the ground and gnaw bones and cower in the dark won’t bring us back that lost chance for salvation.”

"You're right, of course. But it's going to make me feel better. Tan?"

"What, Hikaru?"

" _Catch_ him."

 


	4. None Sing So Wildly Well

"Kenshin! No, come down from there!"

Daisuke ran to the clump of rocks the redhead was attempting to climb. He grabbed him about the waist and pulled him down. Daisuke was old, but Kenshin was only half the weight he should have been, maybe even less.

"Kenshin," Daisuke said firmly once he was safely on the ground. "No! Do you hear me? Don't climb up on anything like that again!"

He immediately regretted his harsh tone. Kenshin's wide, violet eyes filled with tears and his mouth trembled. "I…I'm sorry, Daisuke-dono."

"All right, all right," Daisuke said quickly, in a gentler voice. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Boy. Hey, why don't you go and help Aijo with the mushrooms?"

The old man watch him limp away, shaking his head. Kenshin did not use his left arm, kept it held tightly to his chest, even while he was sleeping. His broken walk was bad enough that Daisuke couldn't really tell which of his legs were injured. What the hell had possessed him to try to climb up that high with only two good limbs?

His wife was angry when he joined the two of them at the fire. "You know better than to yell at him!"

"I apologized! I'm sorry, all right? He just gave me a scare, that's all."

"N-now, now," Kenshin said, his wide eyes flicking back and forth between them, fearing they might have an argument.

She reached out to pat his knee comfortingly, then went back to stirring the very thin stew she was making. Daisuke always marveled at how amazing his wife could be in tight situations. Since Kenshin had come to stay, she had actually found a way to make food stretch further. Of course, most of their diet now was in the form of soup and stew, as thin as it would go, but a full belly was a full belly.

Aijo, who did not like silence, again started teaching Kenshin the song they had been working on for the last few days. Not only did it drive away the oppressive darkness with its lively notes, but it made the young man happy as well. After those frightened and sad expressions they had seen on his face these past months his smiles and laughter were like the long-forgotten sunshine that lightened the hearts of the old couple.

_In Heaven a spirit doth dwell_   
_"Whose heart-strings are a lute";_   
_None sing so wildly well_   
_As the angel Israfel,_   
_And the giddy stars (so legends tell),_   
_Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell_   
_Of his voice, all mute._

_Tottering above_   
_In her highest noon,_   
_The enamored moon_   
_Blushes with love,_   
_While, to listen, the red levin_   
_(With the rapid Pleiads, even,_   
_Which were seven,)_   
_Pauses in Heaven._

 

_And they say (the starry choir_   
_And the other listening things)_   
_That Israfel's fire_   
_Is owing to that lyre_   
_By which he sits and sings-_   
_The trembling living wire_   
_Of those unusual strings._

_But the skies that angel trod,_   
_Where deep thoughts are a duty-_   
_Where Love's a grown-up God-_   
_Where the Houri glances are_   
_Imbued with all the beauty_   
_Which we worship in a star._

_Therefore thou art not wrong,_   
_Israfel, who despiseth_   
_An unimpassioned song;_   
_To thee the laurels belong,_   
_Best bard, because the wisest!_   
_Merrily live, and long!_

 

_The ecstasies above_   
_With thy burning measures suit-_   
_Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,_   
_With the fervor of thy lute-_   
_Well may the stars be mute!_

_Yes, Heaven is thine; but this_   
_Is a world of sweets and sours;_   
_Our flowers are merely— flowers,_   
_And the shadow of thy perfect bliss_   
_Is the sunshine of ours._

_If I could dwell_   
_Where Israfel_   
_Hath dwelt, and he where I,_   
_He might not sing so wildly well_   
_A mortal melody,_   
_While a bolder note than this might swell_   
_From my lyre within the sky._

Aijo had not lost the melodious voice that had drawn Daisuke to her many years ago, and the boy had a clear tenor, filling their cavern with a harmony that needed no music to accompany it.

By the time dinner was finished, the song had been sung at least seven times, sometimes with Daisuke joining even though he could barely carry a tune.

There was no actual way of telling day from night in the labyrinth. They referred to the time they wanted to sleep as "night," and the time they woke as "morning”, when for all they knew their night could have been the middle of the day or their morning could actually be the middle of the night on the surface.

Yet this was the time they chose to sleep. Daisuke was rolling out the bedclothes while Aijo washed smudges from Kenshin's face with a little of their water and an old rag. He was ticklish, she had discovered, and couldn't resist coaxing smiles out of him by dancing her fingers across a sensitive spot under his chin.

"Stop, Aijo-dono!" he pleaded, giggling, and pushed away her hands.

"All right, you silly peachicks. There's food to be hunted in the 'morning,'" the old man reminded, walking to the water bucket to wash.

"Yes, yes. Bedtime, Kenshin-chan."

He came with her obediently to the pallet of blankets they had managed to scrounge up just for him. She tucked him in as she lay down, as she did almost every night, pulling the blanket to his chin with a wistful smile.

She had never had a son. It might have been possible, in younger days, but it would have been a crime to have a child to be raised in the dark prison where they lived. Caring for Kenshin had made her realize just how much she regretted never being able to become a mother.

He wasn't a child, exactly, but he was simple, and child _like_. Effects of the Mindsifter, of course. They had all been through similar experiences, but Kenshin’s mind had been cruelly injured. In fact, she suspected the Mindsifter had been used on him more than once, reducing him into the crouching, terrified animal he had been when she had first seen him. Unable to speak or understand words, he at least responded to gentleness, which had drawn him to visit again and again.

It was the last time, fourteen sleeps ago, that he had come back with his broken arm. After that Aijo had flatly refused to allow him to leave the camp anymore. At first, she and Daisuke had taken turns sleeping so that one was always awake to make sure Kenshin didn't sneak away. Being with them all the time, Kenshin began to remember language. He started to speak and his vocabulary increased and his understanding grew. Memories began returning to him.

It was the old couple's hope that with more time, his mind would heal fully. In the meantime, they simply couldn't let him wander in the tunnels anymore. There were people the darkness had turned into monsters out there, those whom the Mindsifter had twisted rather than shattered.

Aijo was jarred from her thoughts by Kenshin's hand on her arm.

"Aijo-dono?" he said, his eyes large and questioning.

"Yes, Kenshin-chan?"

"There's something wrong with me," he said softly. It was something he had known all along, but had not always been able to voice until recently.

Still, she hesitated a moment before nodding.

"What's wrong with me, Aijo-dono?" he pleaded. "Tell me?"

"Well…" How could she explain it to him? "You're...sick, Kenshin-chan."

"Sick? How? How am I sick?"

"…You're sick…in your mind, Kenshin."

His eyes widened and he paled. "No…no, not that!"

She quickly put her hands on his shoulders to soothe him. "But you're getting better, Kenshin-chan!" she pointed out. "Look how well you've done. You can talk so well now, and you can sing songs and help cook, and you're remembering lots of things now. Remember your friend Kaoru that you talk so much about?"

Mentioning Kaoru usually brought a happy, though faraway, look to him. But this time it didn't. His expression crumbled.

"She…she won't want me anymore, if I'm…sick. She'll be mad."

"It's not your fault…" Aijo stopped. The boy had an exasperating habit of feeling that everything was his fault, which seemed to have been a part of his former personality, perhaps much in the way he liked to call everyone by the archaic "dono". She felt like he needed to know he wasn't to blame for his condition. But then again, she had no idea if he really was or not. Everyone who dwelled in the labyrinth had sinned in one way or another, and there were even some who _deserved_ this kind of imprisonment and deprived existence. For all she knew, she may be sheltering the broken memory of a former killer in her cave.

She doubted it, though. Kenshin, a killer? With a face like his?

"Whose fault, then?" he asked.

She sat back with a sigh, wishing she hadn't taken the conversation so far. Still, she pondered, trying to think of a way to explain it so that he would understand.

"It's the Mindsifter's fault," she said at last. "It's in a room. A room with a falling wall of water on one side. The room is filled with strings where…where _shiny_ things hang. If you look at the shiny things when they're still, everything is fine. But if the patterns of the shiny things are changed, they can make you sick up here." She tapped her temple.

"So that's how I got sick? I looked at the shiny things when they changed?"

She nodded.

"But I'll get better?"

She smiled. "Yes, I believe you will. _Now_ we'd better stop talking and get some sleep, Kenshin-chan. You can help us find mushrooms and roots when we wake up."

"Okay. Good night, Aijo-dono."

She smoothed back his red bangs and kissed him on the forehead. "Good night, Kenshin-chan."

><><><><><><><><><><

He could see them, but they couldn't see him. Tan watched the scene carefully. It was incredible. Never had there been anyone who had been subjected to the Mindsifter twice and had recovered to the extent Himura Kenshin had. The old man and woman, they had certainly never regained the memories taken from them. There were those who had been like Kenshin, still wandering the tunnels without language or humanity, surviving on whatever they could find. They had never regained what was taken from them either.

Tan told himself this was why he didn't bring him to his cousin immediately. He had to study Kenshin further, find out how he was recovering so much so quickly. That was true. Yet it was also true that he was just stalling…and he didn't really know why.

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and pushed away from the stone where he had been leaning. Just a few more days. A few more days to study the former hitokiri and then he would bring him to Hikaru. After all, the routine of the old couple didn't look like it was about to change any time soon.

He turned and made his way through the tunnel, dragging his twisted leg behind him.

　

><><><><><><><><><><

He couldn't sleep again. Sanosuke wandered outside the dojo, where he'd spent the night again. He was starting to think he might as well just bring his stuff and move in before it got stolen by punks who figured he'd abandoned his old place.

He paced quietly, kicking a small stone on the ground. His thoughts wandered. He thought about Captain Sagara. He thought about Kenshin. His mind even wandered to his fight with Anji the priest. It was Anji's example that had kept Sano from allowing his soul to become twisted with anger, grief, and helplessness. It was like being chained to a giant stone that he was forced to drag if he wanted to move forward.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he kicked the stone closer to the dojo. Perhaps he ought to give up this damned waiting! It was driving him insane anyway. Maybe he'd stow away to Greece or something. He had no idea exactly how far away Greece was, but he did know that it was Really Far Away, and chances were boats would have to be changed several times before he'd make it there. Maybe even walking across land to change boats, in countries where he wouldn't know anyone and wouldn't even be able to speak the language.

On the other hand, the alternative _was_ to stay at the dojo and keep doing the laundry in Kenshin’s place.

Sano had almost talked himself into running to the docks that very night when he was startled by the sight of Shinomori Aoshi coming down the path toward the dojo.

Abandoning his kicking-rock, Sano raced up the path to meet him. He stopped short.

Aoshi looked like hell. The man looked exhausted, and he was scuffed and bruised as though he had been in a fight recently.

"Is Misao here?" he demanded before Sano could ask any questions of his own. "I instructed her to come here and wait."

"Yeah, she stayed here all week— ”

"Good. Leave a note for the women and the kid and then come with me. I know where Kenshin is."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Israfel: From "Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe", 1849


	5. Tell Me

An instant after Sanosuke slid open the door, a shinai flew out of the darkness and connected with his face with a tooth-jarring _crack_.

Falling back, he collided with Aoshi, who had been just behind him. He had time to note the almost-inaudible grunt of pain before he reached out with his hands and caught the end of Yahiko's shinai before it could strike him again.

" _Tell me you weren't going to!"_ the boy screamed, wrenching his weapon away. His face was streaked with tears and contorted with rage as he raised the bamboo sword again. _"Tell me you weren't going to leave a note and run off to find Kenshin without us! Tell me you weren't just going to leave us all here waiting, waiting, WAITING!"_

He had heard.

Yahiko swung the shinai again, and Sano caught it again, only this time— with a subtle twitch of his knuckles— the top foot of the wooden sword burst into sawdust.

"I _wasn't_ going to! I was coming in here to wake all of you and tell you Shinomori knows where Kenshin is, you little— !"

"Kenshin…?"

Misao and Kaoru, with robes thrown over their sleeping garments, stood nearby, pale as ghosts in the dark.

"Aoshi-sama, are you all right?" Misao exclaimed.

Aoshi turned and stared at her strangely. His mouth opened, then quickly closed. He put a hand to his forehead as his eyes flicked between her and Kaoru. His next words were completely and totally unexpected. " _You're_ Misao, right?"

><><><><><><><><><><

The boy was humming again.

Daisuke shook his head, amused, as Kenshin hummed or sang little tunes, some taught to him by Aijo, others he either pulled from his healing memory or maybe even made up himself.

The young man had recently claimed the stick that Daisuke used to carry buckets from the main caverns. For some reason, Kenshin liked carrying it around, mostly leaning on it like a walking stick as he poked in corners for edible things that might grow in the moisture and the damp.

Daisuke could only faintly hear the words Kenshin sang, but what snatches he caught he thought were nonsense, but sweet. Just like the boy himself. Very silly but very sweet.

The old man stopped to examine a group of mushrooms he discovered in a rock crevice. There was a light little breeze, the sweetness of fresh air…and voices, ghostlike and carried on that feeble wind.

"…cross-shaped scar…Hikaru-sama…'sifter…for the third time now…"

Daisuke backed away from the crevice. They were looking for Kenshin, and they were just on the other side of the tunnel. They wanted to use the Mindsifter on him for the _third_ time?

Daisuke tore his gaze from the wall to look at the young man. Kenshin was still searching the places where water constantly ran, making the walls smooth and slick, still singing softly with a small smile on his face. He still didn't have much to wear, but he was cleaner now, even well-groomed under Aijo's patient hands, much happier, more…peaceful.

Daisuke had a mental image of him shivering and scared, smudged and skinned from crawling in tunnels…the wild eyes, filthy, tangled hair hanging around his face…

"What should I do?" the old man whispered. He had to help Kenshin. He had become very important to him and his wife in the short time they had known him. But if he did, what would happen to them, to Aijo, if they defied the Penna cousins?

The labyrinth was relatively simple in the tunnels where he and his wife dwelled, and the other side of the wall was accessible through a short bend. They would be there any minute. He had to make a decision.

He hesitated only a moment more before making the only decision he knew he would be able to live with.

"Kenshin, quiet!" he hissed, hurrying to his side.

Kenshin looked at him, eyes wide. "Daisuke-dono?"

"Listen to me. I want you to very quickly and very quietly hurry back home, where Aijo is. Don't stop or turn around. Go."

Kenshin meekly turned and began limping back the way they had come. Daisuke followed behind him, straining his ears. The voices were getting stronger. They made another turn, and after a few minutes of walking Daisuke noticed Kenshin's pace quicken, his breath getting a little sharper. He heard them now too.

Another turn, this time left at a fork. No one lived to the right because there was an underground lake that way. Through a low arch, around another low bend…

They were getting much closer, moving as quickly as old man and a lame young man could.

"Look, someone dropped mushrooms!" Daisuke heard a voice exclaim, echoing in the tunnels behind them.

He glanced down in shock, realizing he had dumped most of the mushrooms from the basket he carried, maybe even left a trail. Cursing himself for a fool, he dashed forward, grabbed Kenshin's arm and ran. Together they passed one of the main caverns mostly used for sleeping. They drew attention from those resting within, but it couldn't be helped.

Through another very low corridor, so low even Kenshin had to stoop, and the warm light from the camp led them the rest of the way home.

Aijo scrambled to her feet when she saw them run in. Daisuke threw down his basket and shoved Kenshin toward his wife, who caught him as he stumbled. "Aijo, take him and run! Out the back!"

"D-Daisuke?"

"Daisuke-dono— "

"No time to explain. Don't let them catch you. _Go!_ "

Kenshin's hand firmly gripped in hers, Aijo threw her husband a terrified glance, then turned and ran past their camp and toward the series of tunnels in the back. It was a labyrinth, and there were chances they'd get lost and never find their way back…

He had no time to think of it as three visitors squeezed through the low entryway and entered his camp. As he turned to face them, he thought of that stick, which Kenshin had kept a hold of, for whatever protection it was worth.

 


	6. We're Coming!

Impatience was so thick in the carriage the air was becoming electrical.

"Izu-shoto…?" Misao asked.

"The Izu Archipelago," Aoshi confirmed, "We're looking for an island west of Oshima. It's so small, it doesn't have a name. It's owned by someone named Penna Hikaru."

"Penna Hikaru? That's a strange name," Kaoru said.

The carriage fairly flew along with Aoshi, Kaoru, and Misao sharing the inside, Yahiko and Sanosuke riding on the top.

"How did you find this out, Aoshi-sama? If you never actually made it to Greece, where have you been all this time?" Misao meant for her question to be light, but her eyes on Aoshi were nervous, uncertain.

Aoshi saw through her and frowned in her direction. "I've already apologized, Misao. It was merely dark, and you stood in the shadows where I couldn't tell you apart."

You're Misao, right?

Misao turned her troubled gaze to the floor of the carriage. "Y-yeah, Aoshi-sama."

There was a pause, as though Aoshi might say more, but he relaxed his shoulders and let the matter drop.

"When Kenshin first disappeared," he began, "I at first tried tracking him and his abductors through ordinary means, but no one had seen Kenshin— who is hardly indistinct— or a lame, blond young man accompanied by bodyguards. With so long a time having passed, I gave up on that and examined your visitor's 'clue' for a time. It was a Greek myth, and I decided to establish contacts with Greece and find out if this giant maze on an island existed."

Aoshi paused, collecting his thoughts. Kaoru and Misao were completely intent on what he was saying, and he was very aware that Sanosuke and Yahiko were leaning over the sides of the carriage, peering in the windows and listening as well.

"I never made it onto the boat. While I was waiting, passengers on the latest boat from Europe debarked, and I saw your visitor."

Sanosuke's voice called from out the window. "You mean that kid?"

"He fit your description. He was blond, looked exhausted, had dark bags under his eyes, and he was crippled. He also had bodyguards, three huge men, and a woman who was a ball of muscles."

"He was disembarking a ship from Europe?" Yahiko piped. "Then Kenshin _is_ in Greece…?"

"I thought so at first, but I decided to follow them. What he did to you and Kenshin made me cautious, so I kept my distance. I tailed them from Tokyo all the way to Ishinomaki."

"Ishinomaki?"

"Yes. Much happened on the way, and I managed to hear the things they spoke of." Aoshi’s eyes narrowed in remembered disbelief. "Kenshin was taken to the island owned by this Penna Hikaru. And the one who showed up at your dojo is his cousin, Penna Tan. Some ancestor of theirs had actually recreated the labyrinth from the Greek legend, carving it deep into stone beneath the island's surface. I don't know its real purpose, but one of the things these Penna Cousins do is make people ‘disappear’ for paying clients.”

"So they lock people up in this labyrinth, never to be seen again?" Misao asked.

"So it would seem.”

"And here I thought you had been in Greece these past three months."

Aoshi fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Misao… It would take several months to travel to Greece. Then it would take _just as long_ to come back. There is no way I could have gone and come back by now."

"…Uh…Oh."

"Shinomori-san," Kaoru said, meeting his gaze steadily when he turned to her. "I understand why you came to the dojo for only Sanosuke…but it would have been terribly cruel just to leave some note for us and disappear. I just wanted you to know that."

Misao looked at Aoshi sharply. "I agree!"

"You might also agree Kenshin will probably be unhappy with Sagara and me for allowing you to follow us into very obvious danger.” Aoshi's eyes met with Sano's upside-down ones as he spoke.

><><><><><><><><><><

Kenshin limped as fast as he could, clutching his stick in his left hand. His arm wasn't healed, but he wanted to hold onto the stick, and his right hand was busy holding Aijo's hand as they hurried through the darkness and shadows.

He was stricken with fear that made his movements jerky and unsteady. He thought he had found a place where he would be safe, as long as he always did what Aijo-dono and Daisuke-dono said, but now he found himself being chased again. The need to run and hide was no longer behind him. Why had they left Daisuke behind? Where were they going?

Back to the darkness. In the darkness, there had been Bad Things, those who tried to catch him, hurt him. Sometimes he had been overpowered by crushing hands, hot breath on his face and neck. The hands hurt him, and he didn't know why. Why? What had he done to make them hurt him? He always got away but sometimes the pain stayed, like with his left arm and his knee that creaked and stung as he limped and stumbled along.

Aijo suddenly stopped and Kenshin nearly fell trying to avoid running into her.

Something growled in the darkness, something large and accompanied by human reek. Gripping her charge's hand tightly, the old woman turned to run a different direction.

They were stopped by sudden light cast on them. Aijo pushed Kenshin behind her, against the stone wall. Shielding her eyes in the light, she recognized Oaka, the Penna cousins' main enforcer. Oaka held the torch he carried higher, throwing light on the monster at the other end of the tunnel.

Once a man, the monster was something distorted with madness. Feral eyes glinted in the torchlight. It growled through broken teeth. It did not appreciate the light.

Slowly removing his hand from Aijo's, Kenshin brought around his right hand and rested his fingertips on the stick held at his left side.

><><><><><><><><><><

"Megumi-san! Megumi-san!"

It was too early in the morning for anyone to be so excited, shouting and knocking at the door. Half-asleep, Megumi pulled open her door and found herself nearly knocked over, gripped in a crushing hug by Kaoru.

"What on earth— "

Pulling back, Kaoru grabbed Megumi's arms. "Aoshi's found out where Kenshin is! We're going to go and get him right now!"

"Ken-san…?" Megumi stared at Kaoru, the younger woman’s face shining with joy and hope. Megumi looked outside, past Kaoru where a carriage waited. On top of it sat Sanosuke and Yahiko, the both of them coiled with excitement. Aoshi and Misao sat within, peering through the door Kaoru had left open in her haste to deliver the news.

"I couldn't leave you like Shinomori-san tried to leave us," Kaoru said, talking really fast. "You can come if you like, but we need someone to inform the police, and to be ready if Kenshin's hurt when we bring him back."

Megumi blinked, unable to believe. "Ken-san's alive? You know where he is?"

Kaoru fell to babbling, explaining how Aoshi had accidentally discovered and tailed Kenshin's kidnappers, found out the existence of an island and a maze within, of Izu-shoto.

"I don't think the police will believe it, but I'm not staying here a moment longer trying to convince them," Kaoru said.

Megumi wanted nothing more than to run to the carriage and haul herself in…but Kaoru was right, someone did need to stay and try to inform the police. She was also no fighter, like the rest of them, and would only be a burden if they ran into trouble. She had patients, too, that she mustn’t abandon. She had made a promise to Kenshin.

With a last, regretful look at the carriage, she grasped Kaoru's hands and smiled sadly. "I had better stay here in case he's brought back injured. I’ll be ready and waiting when you bring him home.

"All right." Kaoru handed her a folded letter. "Make certain this gets to Aoi-ya. We'll be home soon. _All_ of us."

Then the girl was gone, clamoring back into the carriage and Sanosuke was yelling at the harassed-looking driver to get a move-on.

As the carriage jerked and began to move southward, Megumi watched Yahiko stand up on the roof. Sano's yelp of "Hey, you're gonna fall!" was ignored as the boy expelled air from his lungs in a joyful shout. Cupping his hands to the side of his face, Yahiko shouted into the world: " _Kenshin! Kenshinnnnn! We're coming! We're coming to get youuuuu_!"

 


	7. Precious Atonement

 

Tan turned the crystal slowly. Sunlight poured through it, the refracting of the light through the crystal and into his eyes easing the physical pain of bones long-ago broken and aching in the damp environs. His most intimate companion, fatigue, was drowned away in artificial strength. The illusion of health warmed him. He let the crystal drop, watched it swing back and forth on its string.

Closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of painlessness, he turned his back on the Mindsifter and headed back into the darkness. Hikaru watched from the other end of the room, sheltered by the shade of his alcove and the roar of the waterfall, a smile on his face. His cousin, preparing for battle? Then it was almost time…

　

><><><><><><><><><><

_I've been paying for my sins._

"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu… _Ryutsuisen_!"

There was a deafening crack as the stick landed against the monster's head. Kenshin's feet landed lightly on the stone floor. There were gasps of shock behind him— the astonishment of Aijo-dono, the disbelieving horror of Oaka.

_At first, I was the only one who said it had to be forever._

The monster crashed to its knees, leaving deep grooves in the tunnel walls as it lashed out blindly, fighting back against the one who had hurt it.

_I walked for so long, saw so many places and people. But I was never a part of anyone or anything. I could never remember what it was like to have someone be glad to see me, be glad to be with me…_

_**Will you shut up!** _

Dodging the monster's clumsy flailing, Kenshin planted himself firmly in front of Aijo, silently willing her to gather her senses enough to get farther back from the danger.

_I've been paying for my sins. It's as if I've always been like this, ragged and dirty and confused and broken and standing out in a downpour that didn't taste of the sky, that was always the color red. She made me come in out of that rain. Her smile sheltered me even when I tried to go back out into it, still believing I should pay for what I have done—_

Aijo and Oaka had backed away, where the tunnels opened up into caves. Kenshin could hear them move, did not need to turn to look.

_She always pulls me back every time I try to fall. But I'm the one who said forever—_

_**Shut up! For God's sake, just shut up! Do you have any idea how much simpler everything would be if you just shut the hell up?** _

It lumbered up, blood pouring into one eye. Rage blazed in the other.

"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu- _Ryushosen_!" Kenshin put all his force into his move and landed again, favoring his knee, watching the monster-man fly backwards. In his mind's eye, he could see times he had used that move before. Heads would fly, bloody lines drawing the path they took separating from the body…

_**If you really believe it should be "forever," you damned moron, it can't get any more "forever" than this. You won't find a more satisfying way of feeling like you're paying for your sins. Your precious atonement. You won't find a deeper grave than here, forever separated from all those people who kept saving you from your own unhappiness. That's really grateful of you; I'm sure they'll really appreciate it.** _

The monster gurgled dazedly, and did not rise. Kenshin held the stick before him, his eyes on the monster, his ears tuned to Oaka's movements behind him.

_You get mad so easily. You can see that it stopped being forever when she asked me to stay. I closed the door, but I was inside instead of outside. That's where I belong. I don't want it to be forever anymore. I thought I had finally found a way I could atone without having to walk in the bloody rain anymore._

The monster was unconscious, breathing shallowly on the stone floor. Kenshin finally heard Oaka, his entire presence quaking with fear, move towards him. Aijo was still standing safely behind.

_**How am I supposed to see anything through your constant whining and skewered hindsight?** _

The enforcer clumsily drew a blade, dropping the torch in his haste. Kenshin kept his back turned, eyes still on the unconscious creature on the ground.

_Why are you angry with me? For once this isn't even my fault… At least, I don't think it is—_

_**Of course you don't know, Fool! You don't know anything! You're now a pathetic idiot who giggles when tickled on the ribs by an old woman like a little child! You wanted to know why I'm angry? I'm angry because—** _

"— no one has the right _to do this to me_!" The words tore from Kenshin’s throat as he whirled and attacked the terrified Oaka with the stick.

It was this man who stripped his clothing from him and left it on the floor of the Kamiya dojo.

There was chair in the center of a room, blurry in his memory. A constant roar deafened him. The restraints bit into his flesh as Oaka tightened them, making sure he had no choice but to sit still and stare straight ahead.

Oaka's laughter was loudest when Kenshin cried out as his mind was hacked apart by swords made of pure light.

"You had no right! You had no right to violate me this way!"

Memories were peeled away and torn asunder. Blades and harming hands reached them through the open windows of his eyes. At last he backed away into a dusty corner within himself, where he let go of everything else and grasped at a word, a name he knew carried attachments, strings that tethered to it thoughts and feelings and hopes and wishes and dreams that might not leave him completely lost in his own mind, that might show him a path through. Just like the hero who had used a ball of string to find his way through the maze…

Oaka fell back as the stick struck him across the face. Kenshin reversed his weapon and slammed the stick into the back of his head. Oaka was on his knees, crying out. Kenshin savagely hit him across the shoulders, knocking him flat.

How long had he spent locked away in a small room, a heavy door on rusted iron hinges barring him in? He grasped at straw on the floor, staring down at trembling hands, shattered and stunned and unable to remember his own name. Then Oaka and the shadows that followed him dragged him from the cell, and the broken glass shredded through what was left of his thoughts, leaving him still cowering in a little corner within his mind, still sheltering that beloved name with all he had left.

_Stop! STOP! It wasn't just him! There were others as well!_

_**He was there! He laughed while I screamed! He helped them do this to me!** _

"Kenshin! Stop it, please!"

_Aijo-dono…_

The old woman's hands were on his arm. Her flesh was so cold on him he felt like he was burning hot, like his blood had really been boiling inside him. Kenshin looked at Oaka, who was crawling away making terrified, whimpering noises. He looked at the stick he was holding, now bloody toward the top, and then back into Aijo's frightened eyes.

Kenshin was confused. Did he do wrong? Was he to feel ashamed of what he just did? If so, he almost had no shame left to spare.

"Himura-san, hello."

The voice that floated into the tunnel was familiar, and Kenshin felt his blood rise again. Aijo, shuddering in terror, gripping his arm more tightly.

Penna Tan, carrying a torch, emerged from the tunnels. He was closely followed by his usual posse, who dragged Daisuke along with them. The old man was bleeding at the forehead and looked frightened and angry, but otherwise unhurt.

Tan shone the light on Aijo. "Why, hello, Kyoko-san. I’m glad to see you’re well.”

The old woman looked at him fearfully. "My…my name is Aijo."

"If you like that name better, then by all means I'll call you that, Aijo-san. But you were called Kyoko, a long time ago. You were the pet whore to Kariudo perhaps thirty years ago. I’m told you ruined a lot of my father's business deals with Kariudo's yakuza group by murdering him one night during one of your frequent, violent lovers' quarrels— "

"Shut up! _Shut up_! I'm not Kyoko, I'm Aijo! _Aijo_! I'm not a whore, I…I never killed anyone!"

She pulled away from Kenshin and tried to run, only to trip over Oaka's legs and fall to her knees. She pressed her hands to her ears, quivering.

Kenshin gripped his stick so hard his knuckles were white. He looked at Daisuke, who was staring at his wife with a stricken expression. Tan's eyes also moved to the old man.

"Are you wondering why Nejiko-san is here also, Himura-san? He was a thief a long time ago. A great one, too. Known for always getting exactly what he went after no matter whose throat he had to slit, and known for keeping his methods secret no matter whose tongue he had to cut out. Luck was a bedfellow of his until he stole the wrong thing from the wrong people."

Daisuke's face was completely drained of blood. He sagged a little in his captors' arms.

"All those years of wondering why you were here. Now you know, and you'd like to go back to not knowing. I can arrange that." It was half an offer, and half a threat.

Tan turned back to address Kenshin only to find the bloody end of a stick pointed at his face. Anger gleamed in the swordsman's eyes. "You will not harm Aijo-dono or Daisuke-dono."

"I have no wish to harm either of these helpless oldsters, Himura-san. They've paid for their crimes so sufficiently that no one alive even wants revenge on them anymore. That's why I came to see you.

"You've overcome your Mindsifting in a way no one before you ever has. You are truly an incredible man, Himura-san. Still, it's something we can't have. You have to pay for what you've done too, just as Aijo-san and Daisuke-san have. I'm here to offer you a deal: if you come with us now, quietly, I'll let your friends here go. I'll personally take them from the labyrinth and release them into Japan, their minds clean slates and ready to start new lives. They'll be out of this hell here, back in the sun. They have a chance to be happy for their remaining days, and you can give it to them. Think about it.

"But…if you choose to resist, I'll simply bring out my Shortsifter, subdue you and your friends will remain here until they die. Decide."

"If it's so simple for you to bring out that 'little 'Sifter' of yours, why not just do it?" Daisuke's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence that might have followed after Tan's speech. "Why bother to offer him any kind of deal?"

Tan turned his head to look at Daisuke from the corner of his eye. "It is preferred for him to be conscious and coherent when he faces the Mindsifter again. So…what's it to be, Himura-san?"

Long seconds went by before the stick dropped, the hollow sound of heavy wood striking stone as it clattered to the floor blotted out the cries of protest from the old couple on either side of Kenshin. But not the ragged, defeated cry from deep within his own mind.

_**It looks like it is really going to be forever after all.** _

 


	8. What You Want to Remember

Aoshi sat up quickly. The world was pitching and rocking. Struggling for purchase in the darkness, he grasped his own ankles and kept his head down, breathing slowly against the feelings of dizziness and nausea.

He was really slipping.

Eventually he gained control of his faculties, but the world didn't stop dipping and bobbing. The boat ride to the Izu Archipelago was supposed to be short, but it wasn't mercifully short enough.

If he were anyone else, he might be able to explain away moments of weakness as motion sickness, but everyone knew him better than that. He managed to gain privacy under the guise of meditating, but eventually that wasn't going to be enough.

" _I can't believe you were so slow. I expected someone to come before now."_

Aoshi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the haunting, weary voice.

That boy. Penna Tan. Shaggy blond, such tired eyes, slumped shoulders.

Flashes of light…a disordered tune, like the tinkling of glass wind chimes…

Something in his head felt torn loose, agony spreading like white fire through his brain…

…rocks jarred loose from the cliff, trees with branches bent low as if vainly trying to catch him…

"… _stop! Stop!…"_

Who was shouting that? Them? Himself? Someone else, a memory as it cracked under the strain?

The cliff…the crashing ocean spray below…he stepped backwards off the edge…

" _NO!"_

He hit and bounced on the cliff wall, and with every jolt something inside his head either snapped back into place or was jarred even looser… It seemed to take a very long time to hit the water…

" _Aoshi-sama?"_

_The young okashira peered through his eyelashes at the small six-year-old girl disturbing his rest. "What is it, Misao?"_

_He knew it was Misao, but he couldn't see her. She was nothing more than a smudge, a blur._

" _Aoshi-sama…I had…I had a bad dream," the child said._

_She wasn't afraid of the bad dream, he knew it by her voice. But being a child, she had left her bed to seek someone to comfort her anyway. He wondered why she seldom went to Okina or one of the others, but it wasn't from them she wanted reassurance._

_He stood up and walked slowly to where she stood by the doorway. He wished he could see her face, her eyes. Was she uncertain at his approach? Was she afraid of him? Did she look up at him with confidence? Did she feel safe when she was near him?_

_He reached down and took her small hand in his. "All right, Misao. Let's go outside and walk for a while."_

_There was a huge moon outside. He had been looking at it through the window when he'd heard her small feet padding toward his room. Perhaps it would be soothing to her…_

"Aoshi-sama?"

His eyes snapped opened at the voice that scattered the assault of memories. Misao knelt close to him. There was only starlight to see by, but he saw her face clear enough. Her brilliant eyes, her high little cheekbones tapering to her small chin…

"Are you all right? Were you dreaming?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Had he made a noise? Some sound that had caused her to come to him? Had he really been so deeply bogged in his own mind that he couldn't hear her coming?

She didn't wait for him to speak. Her eyes dropped to his hands, where they still gripped his ankles from when he had first awakened. Reaching out, she closed her hand on one of his wrists, pulled his hand free, and wrapped her fingers around his.

"Come with me, Aoshi-sama. Let's go out on the deck and walk for a while."

The same words, ringing in time with the ones he had spoken ten years before…

Outside the clouds and the sea were silvered by a huge full moon. He followed her, still being led by the hand, as if the place they were going was hidden and only she knew how to get there. He realized it was mesmerizing the way her full, thick braid swayed slowly on her back.

Aoshi's eyes froze on the shining rope of hair. It wasn't right…her hair. It wasn't right. It should have been thinner, dancing whip-like with her movements.

She turned to look at him when he slowed. He was becoming alarmed. There was a gentle smile on her face, her eyes large and compassionate. This wasn't right… She was so subdued, so…demure. So un-Misao-like. As she turned to face him, he saw more inconsistencies. She wasn't so whippet-thin as she should have been. Her body was fuller and thicker than he remembered, shaped with womanly curves. Her face seemed to have lost the childish softness, hardened into stronger angles, as if she had aged five years in one night.

"You're…not Misao," he said. He tried to move away, but the grip on his hand tightened.

She closed her eyes, a light smile on her lips as if savoring a though, or feeling. "Is it not so much what you remember, but what you want to remember? Deep down inside, is Misao afraid of you? Or doesn't she feel the safest when she is with you? On that night, did she return to her bed smiling up at you? Or do you just want to believe that she did?" She opened her eyes, glittering in the moonlight. "But more important than all of that: why does it matter so much, Aoshi-sama?"

He blinked once, and found himself alone on the ship's deck. He whirled around, eyes searching, but there was no sign of the mature-looking Misao. More disquieting, _she had never_ _been there in the first place!_

Aoshi turned and stumbled to the railing, gripping the solid metal beneath his hands. _Control_ , he ordered himself fiercely.

But he wasn't in control. Quite the opposite. He was really beginning to lose his mind now. He pressed a hand to his face. What if he was wrong about where Kenshin was? What if this island didn't actually exist? What if it was something he only thought he remembered from spying on Penna Tan and his group?

The questions made his head ache.

Misao…

That night, the huge full moon in the sky. He had walked her around the inn, keeping away from the shadows, her tiny hand in his. She chattered quietly, happy to be with him…

Or had that really happened at all? _Is it not so much what you remember, but what you want to remember?_ Or was it just that he wanted to believe that little Misao had come to him, seeking solace from her nightmare? _…why does it matter so much…Aoshi-sama?_ It did matter, it mattered a lot. He wasn't such a stone that he didn't acknowledge the pain in his chest that came when he realized that he could not clearly remember the one who loved him the most when he wasn't with her.

Was this something that had been done to Kenshin, wherever he was? Was he, too, experiencing hallucinations, confusion, disorientation, whole chunks of his life now gaping, open wounds where they had been torn out?

His mental discipline damaged, Aoshi could not suppress the shiver as he realized that he had only been in contact with Penna Tan and his device for mere moments before stepping off the cliff with the last of his fading willpower.

Kenshin had been in their hands for nearly eight months now.

 


	9. Battling the Mindsifter

Tan noticed that Kenshin didn’t make a sound as Oaka squeezed the restraints as tightly as he possibly could.

He was completely silent as Oaka violently slammed his head into the back of the chair, roughly buckling the head restraint. Oaka's bruised and bloody face showed nothing but grim pleasure at getting some tiny form of revenge for his pains.

Kenshin's face was pale and wan. He stared into the Mindsifter, his face pinched between his eyes at the corners of his mouth.

The Mindsifter was framed by carvings in the walls. Carvings depicting every possible angle of boys falling from the sky. Two boys, one with shortly-cropped dark hair, the other blond. One forever fell from empty sky into empty ocean. The other plummeted eternally from a tall building onto cobbled streets below.

Tan knew the carvings better than he knew his own face, could touch any line of the passionate, desperate artist's strokes he wanted even if he were blindfolded. The beautiful sculptures of a grieving madman.

Kenshin probably didn't see them. He was only looking at the strings. Shaped glass, light-shattering prisms, crystals wrought or uncut. Anything that was glassy clear and colorless hung from strings. Some hung in rows, others hung alone, some strings were tied together, all forming a vast, patterned, warped spider's web of light-altering chaos.

Hikaru was on a raised dais beyond it all, the waterfall behind him. He had moved his wheelchair from the usual overhang in the shadows and onto the dais while Tan was gone. Mist from the waterfall floated over him and rainbows passed through him. He was still as obscured from view as he was in the darkness of his alcove, only right now he was choosing to be more creative about it. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted to be able to clearly see.

Tan tried to straighten his shoulders as he turned to his cousin. He felt sick to his stomach.

He tried once more for the easier path. "Please, Hikaru. Let's just kill him. Right here, right now."

"And break your promise to his dear, dear friends in Tokyo? I thought you liked being known as someone who keeps his word."

Tan fell silent under his cousin's mocking tone. His shoulders fell again.

"It's good to see you again, Himura-san," Hikaru said, his voice raised over the sounds of the waterfall.

Oaka and the other three moved quietly away from Kenshin, slipping into an out-of-the way place near Hikaru's usual alcove. Kenshin's eyes moved slowly from the Mindsifter to Hikaru outside it.

"I am most interested to know how you managed to overcome some of the effects of this ingenious little invention." Hikaru raised one hand, twisted at a strange angle, and with a fingernail he tapped a low-hanging shard of crystal.

And Kenshin blinked.

_What the hell?_ Tan's eyes widened. His eyes cut to Hikaru, waiting expectantly. When Kenshin remained silent, Hikaru's silhouette cocked its head. Tan could not see him frown, but knew that he was.

"I said," Hikaru repeated more loudly, "I want to know how you regained your sanity, your powers of speech."

Again he raised his hand to tap the crystal. The Pattern of strings vibrated and warped…

… _and Kenshin blinked again_ …

Tan's jaw dropped. It was _perfect_! He had timed his blink just as the Pattern rippled, missing its influence entirely.

"I don't believe it…" he heard his cousin murmur.

Hikaru tapped the crystal for a third time, and again Kenshin blinked in perfect time with the Pattern's ripple.

Hikaru's high-pitched laughter floated across the room. "Cousin, did you see that?"

"Yes, Hikaru."

"How about that? You must have been a very brilliant man before, Himura-san! But I'm afraid it won't save you this time. This time, I'm taking everything. _Everything_. Every thought, every memory, every word of language. They’ll be no foundation on which for you to rebuild this time. Oaka!"

Tan felt his lips turning numb. "H…Hikaru…"

"Enough, Tan. I'm tired of your protests. We're not going to kill him," Hikaru said flatly as Oaka headed up the dais towards him.

Hikaru spoke to him in a low voice for only a few seconds before Oaka, his mangled face stretched with a huge grin, bounded down quickly and ran to Hikaru's alcove. The sounds of rummaging came from his way before he reemerged, holding a mallet in one hand an iron spike in the other.

"What the hell is that for?" Tan demanded, taking a step forward.

"Stand aside, Tan," Hikaru ordered sharply. "I feel that it's important for Himura to be… _distracted_ …this time."

While Tan had been listening to his cousin, Oaka had moved around to Kenshin's right arm, hovering over his right hand. Kenshin was obviously more aware of what was about to happen than Tan. Sweat poured down his face and chest, eyes large and wild as he attempted to curl his hand into a fist, for what little protection that would offer.

The other enforcers surged forward eagerly to help, pulling Kenshin's fingers apart and forcing the hand flat on the curve of the armrest.

"It’s time to put that sword-hand out of commission for good," Hikaru declared.

Oaka placed the tip of the spike against the back of Kenshin's palm. Kenshin's eyes grew wider and wilder, the pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

"Oh, God," Tan said through very clenched teeth.

Oaka raised the mallet.

Tan jumped forward and stayed his hand.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Hikaru's voiced hissed from across the cavern.

"You're making a mistake, Cousin."

"And just how is that, may I ask?" Penna Hikaru's voice was low and dangerous, just loud enough to be audible over the constant crashing of the waterfall.

Tan forced himself to stare steadily in his cousin's direction, looking neither at the enforcers or at Kenshin.

"He's left-handed," he lied tightly.

"Left-handed?"

"Yes. He fights with his left hand," Tan repeated firmly.

Tan released Oaka's hand and held his breath.

Oaka scratched his head. "Yeah, I remember he was running with that stick he hit me with in his left hand. Yeah, Hikaru-sama, I think he's left-handed too."

Hikaru's silhouette shrugged. "Oh, how careless. Thank you for pointing that out, Cousin. Perhaps we should do both hands, just in case?"

Tan closed his eyes.

"Only got one spike, Hikaru-sama," Oaka said.

"Fine," Hikaru said, the shadow of his twisted arm waving irritably at Kenshin. "The left hand, then."

Biting hard on his tongue, Tan turned to Kenshin as the others filed to take hold of his left hand. Their eyes met for a moment before Kenshin's clouded over bleakly.

_I'm sorry,_ Tan entreated silently _. It was all I could do._

><><><><><><><><><><

On a mountain in Kyoto, a large man with long black hair read a twice-resealed letter that had originated from Tokyo. Someone had, as merely an afterthought, remembered him and had sent it.

The man sat for a long time, his eyes moving again and again over the words, until his hands gradually parted and tore the pages into halves.

Dropping the papers as though they had been set afire, he reached out with one hand toward a clay jug. The hand was completely steady until it almost reached the jug, and then, just for the fraction of a second there was a twitch as his fingers closed over the neck. The only sound then for a while was the trickle of sake.

><><><><><><><><><><

In Tokyo, a young lady-doctor dropped a vial of medicine to break and stain the clinic floor. Furiously mopping at the mess she wondered shakily, what was the strange stab of fear that had come over her?

><><><><><><><><><><

 

　

On a boat speeding toward an island, a ten-year-old who was once a yakuza pickpocket worked out his worry and seasickness by practicing kata. His swinging faltered as his heart, for no reason he could understand, suddenly skipped a beat and sped up.

><><><><><><><><><><

Several feet away, a young kendo instructor leaned against the boat railing, facing the sea, her eyes much farther away than the boat could ever take her. She inhaled sharply, one hand rising to rest over her heart as a terrible feeling expanded in her chest.

><><><><><><><><><><

　

Leaning against the deck wall, a man who was once a merchant of fights watched over the girl and the boy with a single-minded steadfastness of a bird who was afraid his nest might fall right out of the tree and shatter on the unforgiving earth below. Then, unexplainably, he felt goose bumps rising on his arms. Looking down at his puckered flesh, his jaw tightened.

><><><><><><><><><><

Sitting within the cabin, in shadow, a man who felt cracks spreading in his once-strong mind meditated, his presence no less forbidding for all the crushed-down fear within. His eyes snapped open as a ghostly feeling of distress came over him…this time not over his own growing problem…but of something else…

><><><><><><><><><><

　

Far on the other side of the ship, the okashira sought that which was usually unlooked for, solitude. She remained as hard as stone against her fears, her promise, and her own thoughts. She hugged herself against a sudden, violent chill.

　

><><><><><><><><><><

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!_

_**Hold still, Kenshin. Be still.** _

" _GyaahhhhgggaaAAAAHHHHHHH-!"_

**_Please stop! Please! Stop thrashing, you're making it worse!_ **

_I have to get AWAY FROM IT!_

… ** _Kenshin! Listen…Sanosuke…Sano kicked you into the well once._**

_W…what…?_

**_He did. And then he stepped on your head. Kaoru…Kaoru likes to wear blue. And lavender. And yellow. I like the way she looks in yellow. She looks all sunny and happy, don't you think?_ **

_Ahh…ahh…I…y-yes…_

**_Yahiko's a really brave kid, isn't he? Remember when he took on all those goons who were forcing Tsubame to help them rob Akabeko? We only had to help just a little._ **

… _y…y-yeah. C-cicadas in the s-spring…_

**_He wants a sakabato. Just like yours._ **

_…_

**_Don't cry, Kenshin. They're watching._ **

><><><><><><><><><><

Blood pooled into the cracks of the armrest, poured down to puddle on the stone floor.

His cries had echoed on the cavern walls and then broke off abruptly. Strapped upright in the chair, Kenshin trembled in agony, the muscles of his left arm jerking, the fingers of the pierced hand splayed and locked.

"That's what I call a distraction," Oaka said, rattling out the ringing noise in his left ear with one of his thick fingers.

"All right, then. Anyone who doesn't want their brains baked should leave now," called Hikaru.

Tan watched the enforcers leave. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pair of smoked glasses, set them over his eyes. This was it. Perhaps Kenshin would die of infection in only a couple of weeks. It was the best he could hope for.

Tan watched as Hikaru slowly rolled to the right side of the dais. "Don't bother to come up, Cousin. I'll do it myself this time."

Tan didn't object to that, but he tried one last time to reason with his cousin. "Let me kill him. We can even do it slowly. Cut across his windpipe and watch him asphyxiate. Poison him. Bleed him to death. Anything you like, as long as he dies today."

Hikaru didn't bother to answer this time. His silhouette climbed out of the chair, small and warped behind the crossing rainbows. Dragging one foot behind, using the wall for support. From a hook, he removed a long bamboo pole. "To your place, Cousin. It's time."

Tan shuffled aside.

Hikaru, in a twirling move, lashed out with his pole at the shards and prims and began the first Pattern.

Tan turned his back to Hikaru, watching Kenshin instead through the smoked glasses that partly shielded him from the Mindsifter’s influences.

The crystals and glass and shards began tinkling together, forming a broken little tune that Hikaru soon began to order into something that was both wilder and sweeter. Strange, so beautiful a sound coming from something meant to destroy minds and souls.

Kenshin's hair was soaked with sweat, bangs plastered to his head. His eyes were wide and clouded with pain, watching Hikaru's dance, watching the dance that Tan had danced himself many times.

Tan closed his eyes.

" _In heaven a spirit doth dwell…"_

His eyes snapped open again.

"Whose heart-strings are a lute  
None sing so wildly well  
As the angel Israfel…"

For the second time that day, Penna Tan's mouth hung open.

He was…he was singing. How was he doing that? Why was he doing that? He shouldn't have even been _able_ to do that!

" _And the giddy stars_  
(so legends tell),  
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell  
Of his voice, all mute."

Tan had to fight the urge to turn around and see if Hikaru noticed. He couldn’t turn, though; the Patterns would harm him. He could only stare at Kenshin.

" _Tottering above_  
In her highest noon,  
The enamored moon  
Blushes with love,  
While, to listen, the red levin  
With the rapid Pleiads, even,  
(Which were seven)  
Pauses in Heaven."

"He's singing it to the tune,” Tan breathed. “He's singing to the tune of the Mindsifter."

" _And they say (the starry choir_  
And the other listening things)  
That Israfel's fire  
Is owing to that lyre  
By which he sits and sings-  
The trembling living wire  
Of those unusual strings."

But as he watched Kenshin, he realized it was more incredible than that. Kenshin’s eyes were fixed on a scene that Tan dared not look at, and the eyes were full of determination and fury. He was _dueling_ the Mindsifter!

" _But the skies that angels trod,_  
Where deep thoughts are a duty-  
Where Love's a grown-up God-  
Where the Houri glances are  
Imbued with all the beauty  
Which we worship in a star."

Kenshin's voice rose as the Patterns of the Mindsifter became wilder and faster, and he parried each note with one of his own, beat for beat.

" _Therefore thou art not wrong,_  
Israfel, who despisest  
An unimpassioned song;  
To thee the laurels belong,  
Best bard, because the wisest!  
Merrily live, and long!"

He was doing it! He was beating the Mindsifter!

" _The ecstasies above_  
With thy burning measures suit-  
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,  
With the fervor of thy lute-  
Well may the stars be mute!"

The Patterns cried out louder, and so did Himura Kenshin. Soaking wet with perspiration, he kept his eyes open and blazing as met the notes. Turning the blows. Blocking. Note for note, exactly on time, on key!

" _Yes, Heaven is thine; but this_  
Is a world of sweets and sours;  
Our flowers are merely- flowers,  
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss  
Is the sunshine of ours."

At last the haunting, crystalline music slowed, but Kenshin never faltered. Lowering his voice so that it was hidden just under the high sounds of the chimes and the roar of the waterfall, he sang to the very last.

" _If I could dwell_  
Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I,  
He might not sing so wildly well  
A mortal melody,  
While a bolder note than this might swell..."

The Mindsifter was stilled, the chiming tune ended. Yet Kenshin still sang the last line in a whisper, his eyes sliding slowly shut.

" _From my lyre within the sky."_

 


	10. Sifting

There were two, as if one of them existed for each of his eyes.

One of them reflected clearly in his left eye, above his scar. She was beautiful. Sad. Cool-headed and mild. It was difficult to make her smile. She moved slowly, carefully. She didn't speak much, and when she did, her voice was soft and her tone was measured. It was difficult to guess what she was thinking or feeling. Her moods were shrouded and enigmatic. He didn't always know when he hurt her, or made her happy.

_They shared another language, and his body still recalled it. The language was a heated but gentle one, flowing and murmuring and rhythmic and lyrical. He moved his hands along her curves, knowing well the way of them, yet exploring as completely as if it were the first time. He leaned down to kiss her, unfortunately at the same moment she raised her face to be kissed._

_His forehead hit her nose with an alarming crunch. Her dark eyes watered as she rolled away from him, clutching her face._

" _Ahh!"_

_He drew a sharp breath and cursed_. “ _Have I hurt you, Tomoe?"_

_She turned back to him, blinking away tears. "My nose is broken, I think."_

" _No it isn't," he said, gently feeling the bridge of her nose. "When a nose breaks, it makes a nasty crunching sound and you bleed like a pig. It's all right."_

_She felt gingerly under her nose, and seeing that he was right she shook her head at him in an amused sort of way. He smiled as she reached up with one hand, pressing it to the back of his head, and guided his face down to meet hers. This time, they met at the right place._

The other reflected in his right eye. She was beautiful, but even if she were not, she would still be beautiful. It was the simplest thing in the world to make her smile. She dashed about, not worrying if she made mistakes, correcting them when she did. She talked freely, her laughter generous. If he made her mad, he'd know it immediately. If he made her happy, she showed it. She was honest that way. She made him want to see things as she saw them.

_She found him sitting on the porch one late summer night. He smiled in greeting as she seated herself beside him._

" _It's too hot to sleep," she complained. And it really was one of the worst summer nights he could remember, too humid and uncomfortable to sleep. Like him, she had come out hoping to find a soothing breeze._

" _My father used to tell me stories," she said, "on nights like this. Tales to make me forget how uncomfortable I was. There was one story that…that reminds me of you. It was about a young man who was bragging about the unmarred beauty of his heart until an older man came and showed him how much more beautiful his own heart was. The older man's heart was beating strongly, but it was misshapen, made up of pieces that didn't fit together and covered with burns and cuts and gaping holes._

" _The younger man asked how the older man could possibly say that his heart was more beautiful, when his own was perfect and the other was a mess of scars and tears. The older man said it was because he had often given pieces of his heart away. Sometimes he received pieces of others' heart in return to replace the hole that was left. Often they didn't fit, with their jagged edges, but he loved the pieces even more for not being exact. Sometimes he gave away parts of his heart, but the person to whom he gave it did not give a piece of their own in return. That's why there were holes and empty places in his heart. The holes were painful, but stayed open, reminding him of the love he gave, and of the hope that someday those people would give of their hearts to fill the empty spaces he had waiting. That was what true beauty was._

" _You have a heart like the older man's, Kenshin."_

_She stopped speaking, and no matter how he tried, he could not speak back to her. She smiled at him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. This was the language they shared, for she was certainly one who knew how it felt when one couldn't force words beyond a lump in one's throat._

They stood there, in his eyes, surrounded by such bright light. It burned, but he held onto them both. His arms were so very heavy as he lifted them. Bare arms. Marked and bruised. The right was steady and whole. The left was crippled and trembling, blood running down, dripping from his fingers.

He held out his hands to the two women, not certain what it was he wanted from them. Even less certain he had a right to ask it of them.

The woman in his left eye looked at the bloody hand he held out to her. Her eyelids lowered. Slowly she shook her head. Shame washed over him, more crippling than his pain. He was still making it rain blood…

She was blocked from his vision as the other woman moved to him. She stood in both his eyes now, her smile was as gentle as her eyes were brave. Reaching out with strong, sure hands she gripped his right hand in hers, and with her left hand she grasped his wrist, below the oozing wound. She did it not to avoid the blood— which was impossible as freely as it ran down his arm— but so she wouldn't cause him any more pain.

He hadn't realized he was on his knees until she pulled him up, forcing him to stand with her. She held him to her, and she was nearly all that was in his eyes now. The other woman slipped away with a small smile, and he realized that he had misunderstood the reason why she had refused to reach back to him. It was because she had decided that it was for another to do now.

Aching inside, he leaned wholly into the woman who held him. He was ashamed again, this time of his weakness, his mistakes that had ended him up this way, the grime and the blood that he knew he was getting all over her. The shame mixed with the pain, the fear, and the loneliness. She seemed so strong, so much stronger than he had ever, ever been. His damaged mind could no longer put up emotional defenses. He held onto her, cried silently, let her comfort him.

After a time, she shifted her head slightly so that her mouth was next to his ear. "Hold on," she whispered. Her voice was slow, soft. "Hold on. I'm coming. I’m on my way."

"No," he pleaded, even as he gripped her closer. "Please. Kaoru-dono, stay away. This one is in hell, where angels cannot be."

She made a noise in his ear. She might have meant for it to be a chuckle, but it was too high in pitch for him not to know it was a sob. "Then, Kenshin, you shouldn’t be here.”

White-hot pain jolted through his hand, up his arm. He flinched, but her arms tightened around him, protecting him. The sound of metal striking stone could be heard from somewhere far away. A voice somewhere far back in his mind supplied that the iron spike that had been nailed into his hand had been removed and tossed aside.

A mighty wind suddenly moved over them, and the light dimmed away, but he was still protected in her embrace.

The wind slammed into them, followed by scales of distant chimes. Kenshin slipped to his knees, and she with him. She didn't let go. Her lips were against his ear, her voice drowning out the fury. "Remember. Hold on. Survive. Remember. Hold on. Survive. Remember…" Again and again and again…

The next time the wind attacked, it brought fire with it, and the surreal gale attacked them more viciously than ever. There was pain, but it wasn't as important as it was to Remember, Hold on…

…Survive.

><><><><><><><><><><

"I think you can stop now, Hikaru."

"Good. It’s done,” Hikura panted, out of breath. “I'll have Oaka put him back…in the maze and…observe the effects once I've rested."

“I’ll…take him, Cousin.”

Hikaru made his way to his wheelchair and settled himself wearily in it before answering. "As you wish. But, Tan?"

"What, Hikaru?"

" _Don't_ kill him."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Kaoru tells to Kenshin in this chapter is based on an inspirational piece called "The Most Beautiful Heart". It's author is unknown.


	11. Broken Wings

Voices…running water…

He was so cold, and there was pain. Someone was bothering his left hand. Then there was a new warmth. Kenshin opened his eyes and saw Aijo. He was looking up blearily at the old woman. He could feel her arms around him, cradling him close. She looked angry, seemed to be arguing with someone.

He closed his eyes again. She couldn't possibly be real. He'd sent her away, hadn't he?

There were more voices, but they were hushed and indistinct. He couldn't find the concentration to work out what they were saying.

He felt himself being moved, opened his eyes again and saw Daisuke this time, the old man lifting him up into his arms like a child. He, too, had his eyes on something else, with the same angry, defiant expression.

His thoughts worked sluggishly. Should he try to stand? Did they need help? He shifted himself slightly, not entirely sure where he was and what it might take to get his feet under him, but the movement jarred his hand and he heard his own soft cry of pain. Daisuke frowned down at him and tightened his hold. Kenshin felt one arm under his shoulders, and the other under the crook of his legs. The message was clear enough: stay still.

He felt Aijo's wrinkly hand on his forehead, and then stroking his hair. Kenshin closed his eyes again. They were angry but they were calm. That meant they were in no danger and he need not do anything just yet. He was very tired…

><><><><><><><><><><

"I don't care what you promised him, we're not going anywhere!" Aijo hissed, standing in front of her husband and Kenshin, shielding them from view.

 Tan leaned against the stone wall, not bothering to hide his weariness. He wished he'd allowed one of the enforcers to come along after all, to carry Kenshin all this way if nothing else, spare him effort. Then, as if he didn't have enough problems, the old couple who had been helping Kenshin had suddenly jumped him, pulling the half-conscious swordsman from him and now clearly intended to carry him away.

"No one ever listens," Tan said, too tired to even be annoyed. They acted like Kenshin was family to them the way they desperately tried to shelter him. They refused to leave the labyrinth if he didn't come with them. Any other soul trapped within the maze would kill for the chance they had been given, but the old couple clearly had a different idea of what was important to them.

"Please," the old woman entreated. "He probably needs help more than ever now after…after what you've done to him. We can't just leave him like this."

Tan's eyes traveled to what he could see of Kenshin around Aijo. Daisuke cradled the red-headed man in his arms as possessively as he might his own son. His jaw was set, his eyes hard. He was willing to fight to keep him. So was the old woman. Tan had not expected this sort of reaction or level of devotion.

"I told him I'd set you free…" he tried again, but knowing their ears were going to be as deaf as Hikaru's.

"It's not worth the price," Daisuke said. "If it's freedom he wanted for us, then we freely choose to stay and care for him."

Tan slumped lower. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd broken a promise to the rurouni. It had seemed like a simple promise when he'd said he'd make sure no harm came to his friends, and yet he allowed the one that tried to tail him back on the surface to die when all he'd meant to do was erase the man's memory of them ever meeting. Kenshin seemed to have some very determined friends…much like these oldsters opposing him now.

"He beat it, you know," he said.

"What?"

"The Mindsifter. Himura-san beat it. He fought it and won. He didn't come out unscathed, but he's retained himself. I know because when I was bandaging his hand he said the name of the person who made this medicine…" Tan flipped a small compact box at Aijo, who caught it, staring mutely at the lid where a floral design was painted.

The old couple both stared at Kenshin. “That’s…impossible,” Daisuke said.

Tan was beginning to believe that not much was impossible for this man, but there was really nothing more he could say. His words were never heeded by anyone anyway.

He tapped a shard of the Shortsifter in his pocket, wondering if he should enforce his promise and still preserve some honor that might spare him from the darkest pits of hell. But…by leaving Kenshin in the care of the old man and the old woman, the former hitokiri might just survive. He beat the Mindsifter. Maybe he could beat the labyrinth as well?

Kenshin took away deliverance once in his ignorance, and after all the Pennas had done to him as punishment, Tan didn't feel he really had the right to hope that Kenshin could bring that salvation back… Yet there was still the faintest glimmer of hope. For Hikaru. It was too late for Tan, but Hikaru might not be too far gone…

"I'm going to die today, I think," he said suddenly, surprising himself as much as he surprised the old couple, who were just begun to slowly edge away when they saw he was lost in thought. "Or maybe the next, if things go badly. Go ahead and stay here, keep him if you can. Try to keep him hidden and quiet. But know I'm not going to be able to help again after this day."

"What have you ever done to _help_?" Daisuke spat.

Tan only shrugged. No one ever listened.

He turned and limped back the way he came. Promises be _damned_.

><><><><><><><><><><

"Tan? Don't. Please, don't. Just put those down. W-will it away."

"I can't. It’s the Mindsifting. There’s no willing that away. You know that, Hikaru.”

" _Tan_ …"

"If only we were more clever. Like Daedalus, huh? Or Talos. Then we could make a set that would work. Then we wouldn't be broken. Instead we'd be flying.”

"Tan…I…I haven't been very kind to you these last few years. I— "

"Don't worry about it, Hikaru."

"Tan. Cousin, come back! Come back, I-I'll have Oaka chain you down, we'll keep you safe until the feeling passes, please— "

"Heh. Hikaru, you haven't looked at me like that since we were children. But you know it won't. The feeling won't pass even if you chain me down or lock me up. It’s been tried before. I'll simply go mad. I would rather die now, as myself. Remembering who I am. Ironic. That’s something we've denied so many…"

"Cousin…don't…"

"I've survived before. Maybe I will this time."

"You won't. You've been broken too many times.

"I've always been broken, Hikaru."

"Why does this have to happen right now? I thought making Hitokiri Battousai suffer would make it easier for us to bear this, but you just became more and more unhappy. And now today is the day you must— ”

"Hikaru, I’ve tried to tell you so many times. I know it seems easier to bear if you have someone to blame, someone to punish. But it isn’t his fault we’re cursed.”

"But if he had only done the right thing, we wouldn’t be right now!”

"He didn't _know_. Oh, Hikaru, I'm so desperately sick of what we are, of what I've had to do every day of my remembered life. At least Himura-san changed from the demon _he_ used to be.”

"He had choices. We don't. We never have."

"Maybe it's the fact that I'm going hell today, but it all sounds like nothing but excuses now. _Sayonara_ , my cousin."

"Tan…?"

"What, Hikaru?"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry I…that I didn't listen to you more."

"Don't worry about it, Hikaru. After all, one of the few choices that I ever had was to obey you as our leader.”

><><><><><><><><><><

Myojin Yahiko decided he hated the Izu archipelago. He hated how different it looked from the rest of Japan, with it's scraggly plants, jagged cliffs, crashing foamy water. Even the warmer temperature and the people, friendlier and more easygoing than in the larger cities, failed to lighten his heart.

Everything on the island looked exactly the same. Little collections of islands, rumor of a volcano this way or that way. Who could pay attention to things like that? He'd been so excited when they had somewhere to go, something to do. Now it was back to waiting, searching, wondering, hoping. Asking questions. Depending on luck.

Yes, Yahiko _hated_ it.

He walked along the beach near the town where they were staying, alone for once. Trying not to think. He was afraid of the places his thoughts could take him. Anywhere from what might be happening to Kenshin at this very moment to great, deep, sealed-up fears that he might wish his shinai into living steel, that he might imagine slashing a bloody revenge against those who had dared to harm his family.

He couldn't think like that. Couldn't bear the violent thoughts. Even if it was only because he feared most of all what Kenshin would think.

Yahiko felt the bitter smile on his lips. Even now, Kenshin guided him. Wouldn't let him fall into that kind of darkness. But Yahiko couldn't be there for Kenshin. No help, no comfort. Useless to help Kenshin when _Kenshin_ really needed it. If it had been anyone else, any of them instead, Kenshin would have found them by now. Yahiko was sure of it.

He kicked at the sand in frustration, and was surprised when his sandal connected with a glass bottle, partially hidden in the scrubby grass. He might have dismissed it as ubiquitous litter, but he noticed there was paper inside.

Curious, the boy went after the bottle and uncorked it. He fished out the paper and unfolded it. Another surprise awaited him as he recognized the handwriting of his ugly teacher.

Kenshin,

This is a beautiful place. I hope you saw it. I hope you're seeing it right now.

I think you'd like the people here. It would do your heart good to see how simple things are here. Calm, not bustling like back home. It's warm and windy.

Did you ever come here in your wanderings? Somehow I don't think so, but how can I be sure except to ask you when I find you? If you haven't, I'll show you some things I've seen here. The sunsets seem to have so much more purple in them than back at home. The same shade as your eyes. It helps me to believe that you really are here, somewhere.

I can feel you. We'll find you, Kenshin.

-Kaoru

Yahiko snorted as he refolded the paper, but there was no heart in it. Girls did such silly, sentimental things. It was obvious she knew Kenshin would never read this letter. In fact, she never wanted anyone to, otherwise why would she have put it in a bottle and thrown it into the ocean?

He stared at the bottle, rolling the wooden cork between his fingers as he studied it. The surf had caught it, and washed it back to shore. Thrown back in, the same would probably happen.

Leaning down, Yahiko picked up several stones from the beach, worn smooth by the waves. He brushed the dirt off carefully before dropping them, one by one, into the bottle, careful not to smudge or tear Kaoru's letter.

Satisfied it was well-weighted, he climbed up one of the craggy hillsides rising above the ocean. From there he threw the bottle with all his strength, watching it sail out into the air toward the ocean until it became only a pinprick before arching down. He was a little surprised and impressed by his own skill. He sat down for a while, dangling his legs, seeing the ocean with new eyes.

A labyrinth deep _underground_ … Kenshin would be glad to see the these islands, and sky and the ocean after so much time, wouldn't he?

Yahiko buried his face in his hands, blocking out the sights, surprised and angry that he'd found himself so suddenly close to tears. _Damn them_! This wasn't fair! Kenshin had already gone through so much. As far as Yahiko was concerned, Kenshin had paid his dues, and then some! He _deserved_ to be happy, incredibly, completely, peacefully happy, for the rest of his life!

But even after all this time, it was too soon for tears, too soon for despair. Kenshin needed to be found, and it was already vowed one way or another he was going back to the dojo. _Then_ Yahiko could sort out what he was feeling. But not before. This was the way it had to be.

Composed to a steely point, the Tokyo samurai stood and made his way across the cliffs that rose above the ocean.

Coming up on Aoshi was surprising. Yahiko saw the top of his head first, recognizing his familiar long coat before overcoming the rise in the land and seeing him completely.

Aoshi appeared to be standing in front of some sort of fallen bird. An enormous bird from the huge brown wings Yahiko could see spread on the ground on either side of Aoshi.

But when he reached Aoshi’s side, he saw to his shock and horror that what Aoshi was standing over was no bird.

Yahiko had remembered well the shaggy hair and sagging eyes of the boy who had invaded his home and taken away one of the most important people in his life. Seeing him on the ground leaking life-blood might have brought on some sort of satisfaction, but…

Yahiko's eyes moved disbelievingly over the wings. Huge, beautiful wings of brown and dun-yellow feathers, sewn together over a frame made of wood, strapped to Penna Tan’s arms and shoulders.

He was still alive, Yahiko realized when Tan turned his head to look at him. He smiled a bloody-toothed smile. "I remember you. You were at the dojo where Himura-san lived."

"Where Kenshin _lives_ ," Yahiko corrected. His eyes took in Tan’s shattered body before traveling skyward to confirm there was indeed a high, steep rise in the earth from where Tan must have jumped. "What the hell were you doing? Trying to _fly_?"

"Yes."

"Fool!" Yahiko bit out. "Where is Kenshin? Where have you taken him? Don't you dare die before you tell me!"

Tan shifted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Heh. I _am_ a fool, Little Swordsman. But it wasn't my choice to be one. It's my curse. Every drop of blood that was mine is cursed. Let none get on you, or you'll be cursed as well."

Shaking with nerves and anger and bewilderment, Yahiko looked to Aoshi. This was their only link to Kenshin, lost forever if he died before telling them anything useful.

"Aoshi, how long have you been here? Did he tell you anything? Where Kenshin is? Where? Where's is Penna's Island?"

"I told him," Tan volunteered. "When he asked. I thought he was a hallucination at first. I thought I'd killed him."

"What?"

"It's just talk from one far gone, Boy," Aoshi said quietly but a little too quickly.

But Yahiko had no patience to think on it. Something much more important was at stake.

"So you know where Kenshin is?" he pressed desperately.

"I know where the _labyrinth_ is," Aoshi said. "Where he is being held."

Put that way it seemed a little daunting, but it was something. They could move forward again.

Aoshi surprised Yahiko by kneeling beside Tan, careful to avoid the pooling blood.

"What is your name?" he asked softly.

He chuckled humorously. "You don't remember? It's Tan. Penna Tan."

Aoshi nodded. Then, "Why?"

Tan stared at the sky for a long moment. When he spoke at last he only said, “Revenge.”

Yahiko quivered with rage, only holding his tongue because of a look from Aoshi.

"Is there a way we can heal what you've done to him?"

Tan's eyes traveled from the sky to Aoshi's face. _And to you?_ "No. Whatever he can't overcome…is permanent. Just like this is." His fingers brushed over the soft feathers of his homemade wings. "I'm glad you're not dead. I'm glad you, his friends, made it this far. I left everyone that clue, but I never believed anyone would take it seriously enough."

"It was deliberately misleading," Aoshi grunted.

There was a jerking movement of Tan's shoulders that might have been a shrug. "Perhaps. You still found your way here. I'm glad. I…I admire Himura-san. Even without all of his faculties, he shocks and amazes me. Where he gets his strong will…I wish I knew…" Again his fingers brushed over the feathers. "I wish I knew…because if I did, then maybe, this time, I would have really been able to fly."

 


	12. The Wrong Question

The sake jug in Hiko Seijuro's cabin was gathering a layer of dust. And he was in the foulest mood he could ever remember because of it.

He blamed Kenshin.

This was worse than when Kenshin ran off into the Bakumatsu. Back then, he had been troubled because of what Kenshin did and would do, but never once did he worry about his student's welfare. In fact, Hiko made a point not to worry at all. Kenshin made his decision, and there was little more to be said about it.

Still, now in the present day his sake went untouched. It would have take the edge off his unproductive restlessness a little, under ordinary circumstances. But some reason, drinking anything made it worse.

Hiko put away several fired pots to be glazed later when he had the patience and walked past his cabin, avoiding it entirely. He silently cursed his apprentice again, though without any real heart in it.

His home had become full of ghosts. Or rather, only one ghost changing forms according to whatever year of life the master was recalling his student. They were just his own memories, except for a few vivid dreams that came to him when he dozed or slept after drinking his sake. The last dream before he'd decided to put the jug away for a while had been the worst.

Sleeping as deeply as he ever did, he dreamed of a soft, high voice called quietly to him in the darkness.

He saw a very young Kenshin kneeling in front of him, the boy's sorrowful eyes large and glistening in the gloom.

"Master," the little apparition whispered, tiny fists planted on the floor in front of his knees. "Master, do…do you hate me?"

Hiko remembered it as being one of the few times he was surprised enough to gape like a fool.

"Master, I'm…sorry," the child said, his young voice unsteady and thick with pleading. "Please, don't hate me."

And Hiko had jerked awake and was on his feet before he realized it, so disoriented by the thick dream-fog clouding his mind that he actually cast about in search of the boy before his senses came flooding back. Kenshin was not only _not_ there, but he also hadn't been that little boy for a long time.

That had been his last and only really lucid dream, but it had opened a gateway of old memories. And that was bothering the hell out of him.

If he went inside the cabin, he would see a half-remembered image of Kenshin in a corner, feverishly working on his writing, face a bit drawn because he knew he'd get another unflattering remark from his master for not being able to improve his handwriting. If he walked outside, he'd see in his mind a slightly older Kenshin, practicing under the trees, holding the sword as if it had become a part of him…watching Hiko out of the corner of his eye, hope there for a nod, a word of approval, even a smirk…

Then the memories would fade and the master would go about his business, trying to ignore his body's craving for his favorite drink, and the growing anxiety. They went hand-in-hand. If Hiko drank, he felt the knot in his gut more strongly than if he left the sake alone. And he didn't want to feel it. It was not only distracting, it was unseemly.

He definitely had a bone or several to pick with those friends of his student when they got back, he decided as he leaned a bit tiredly against a tree. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts turning to that girl and the spiky-headed kid that lived with his apprentice in Tokyo.

He couldn't help but wonder, how had he been almost so completely forgotten? Of course he wasn't a part of Kenshin's life, really, and hadn’t been for a very long time. Still, he had helped them out before, and…well, how much _impression_ did it take for them to at least remember that he might be interested in what happened to Kenshin?

Hiko's left fist clenched at his side. Maybe he might have wanted to help search? Maybe he could have found Kenshin's kidnappers sooner? Maybe he might have wanted to go along on their mad dash into God-knows-where? Maybe he wanted revenge on those who dared to harm the boy he raised? Maybe he'd just wanted to _know_?

Whether any of that was true or not, would have come to pass or not, Hiko had not been given the choice. Only the old man at Aoi-ya had recalled his existence, and even that was by letter. He had not been visited by anyone.

Why?

His cape aflutter, he whirled around and strode back to his cabin. Grabbing the neglected sake jar, he dusted out a saucer with his thumb and took his first drink in many days. Hell with it. If he wanted answers, maybe it was time to face that nagging feeling and get it over with. He'd avoided it for long enough.

A few saucers later, Hiko felt a little better physically, worse emotionally. He gritted his teeth as a tattered, weak little sentiment gained strength and tugged at his mind, asking to be recognized. He faced it, but still didn't understand what it meant.

He rubbed his eyes again. This was precisely why he'd stopped drinking for a while. He wasn't running. He didn't run. It was just a mystery that bothered him, something he just couldn't seem to grasp, that kept him from enjoying his drink or his solitude.

This was Kenshin's fault.

Kenshin…

Hiko looked up slowly, the images of his mind's eye overlapping with reality once more. Kenshin, as a man with scarred face this time. As he was the last time Hiko saw him. Only his eyes were soft and pleading, Hiko's blending of the mental image neatly with the child-Kenshin from his dream.

Something clicked inside his head, and he let out a soft gasp. He knew what it was now. What he'd been missing, what he just couldn't get. His hand clenched over the saucer, and he gritted his teeth, hearing the clay creak dangerously in his grip. A notion that he didn't know how to put into words, and the fact that even if he did there would be no one to say them to cracked the rest of his control.

Hauling back, he flung the cup away from himself, where it hit the wall and shattered, and shouted it out the only way he could:

" _You little fool, I don't hate you!_ "

It was the wrong answer to the wrong question, and he knew it. But there it was, hanging in the air over the broken chips of his saucer. For a long time, Hiko only stared at the mess he'd made, and numbness settled over him.

"I don't hate you," he repeated, but it wasn't enough.

Every thought, every memory he'd had of Kenshin were ones when something was missing. Something the boy had looked for and wished for every day, but never asked for. Something that flowed far and beyond that inadequate denial. Something that _might_ have made a difference…

Why this was so important now of all times, he had no idea. Perhaps age was finally catching up with him…or maybe the worry was just getting to him. Maybe there was something weird in the damn sake.

But he couldn't help but feel that maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there still might be another chance to answer the right question with the right answer.

Before the next morning arrived, the cabin stood silent, shut tight and empty. Hiko had gone.

 


	13. The Entrance to the Labyrinth

There were still running water sounds. They came and went, and since they were sharp and clear and unusual, he noticed them.

It was the constant things that were harder to notice. There was a trembling, his reaction to pain and to cold. So cold. Except his hand. His left hand was bleeding fire that spread up to his elbow.

He flinched away from other hands that touched him, the ones he knew would go for the hand, to bring him pain. They were hurting him again, and he wanted no more of it. But he was too tired to fight, and there were earnest pleas and apologies that reached his ears. They were hurting him, but they were sorry they were hurting him.

Strange…

There was a metallic popping sound, and then a smell he recognized. It was a greasy scent, thick and strong…a medicinal smell. Megumi…her family's medicine, that she gave to him…

He tried to speak, searching for words of apology, and found his tongue stuck. With effort, he moved it, actually hearing it _peel_ from the roof of his mouth…an alarming sign of great thirst. Someone else was startled too, judging from a sharp gasp and a barked order from somewhere above him. His head was lifted and he choked on water before he remembered to swallow.

He tried to speak again, the sounds he made were so mangled even in his own ears. He managed something like, "S'rry, Meg'mi-d'no… Th's'one be m'careful nex' time…"

So hard to talk now. He thought about trying to repeat that, but forgot about it as weight landed on his arms, pinning him down. He fought down panic, and had the presence of mind to think of the thick medicine smell again. _I'm wounded. They're only trying to help…_

But his distress grew as the pain did, as bandages stuck to caked blood and split flesh were pulled free with sounds not unlike the one his tongue had made when he pulled it free.

_They're helping, they're helping_ , he tried reminded himself, but the thought slipped away even as he grasped at it. Only sensation was starting to hold truth. Someone was holding him down and hurting him.

He began to struggle until a hand touched his hair. A soft, deft stroking in his bangs, the hand cool as the fingers brushed over his forehead.

He became still, feeling very lost, not really able to process the gentle pleasure in the midst of so much agony.

"K-kah-ka'ru-d'no?" he said tentatively.

There was no answer back, but the soothing fingers brushed along his long bangs and across his hairline. He breathed out and relaxed. Kaoru would pet his head like this when he was injured, before. When she thought he was asleep. He associated the feeling with admonishments to rest and the knowledge that everything was all right, that everyone he cared about was just fine.

Was that how it was now? Could he rest? Was all well?

"K-Ka'ru?" he called again, needing to know, to make certain.

Wind blew over him, smelling like damp earth and water. There was light for his eyes to see by again, soft and white like early morning. He was lying down, on cool grass. There was a gurgling little stream to his left. It…smelled so good, the air around him. He'd forgotten how sweet the air could be.

A hand was back in his hair again and he looked up to see her there, above him. His head was in her lap. She was looking out over the river, but feeling him move, she looked down at him. She smiled, running her fingers through his red locks, smoothing them aside only to have them fall right back into place.

He was lost again, looking up at her, at the shine on her raven hair, at the shape of her mouth, at the healthy glow on her cheeks.

"Go back to sleep," she ordered, tapping his forehead with her forefinger before returning her hand to his hair. "Rest, I said. We'll be home soon."

He blinked slowly. "B-but-"

She placed her hand over his eyes, making him close them. "We'll be home soon," she repeated. " _Rest_ , Kenshin."

He smiled. He knew better than to argue with that tone. "Y-yes ma'am."

Fingers entwined with his, holding his hand. He rested. Yesterday had not been all right, and tomorrow might not be all right, but, right now, _right now_ was all right. She had come to comfort him once again, and for as long as he was with her, he _was_ home.

><><><><><><><><><><

 

Kaoru woke up with wet cheeks.

She sat up on one elbow, eyes scanning her surroundings in confusion as her dream faded from her memory. It was night again. She was sharing a borrowed futon with Yahiko.

The boy had shifted in his sleep. One of his arms had fallen over her stomach as he sprawled out, taking most of the room. She smiled gently, touching his hand in gratitude for his unintentional comfort to her.

The other two futons they had found in the dusty cabana were occupied by Sano in one, and Misao in the other. Aoshi was supposed to be sleeping in the corner, but when she looked for him, she found him missing. He was probably outside.

Gently untangling herself from her student, Kaoru sat up, shivering in the chilly air.

Even if they hadn't conducted a complete search of the island, they might have missed the cabana, so hidden by the overgrowth as it was. But, as it was, there was a deeply-worn path leading to it from a ramshackle dock on the narrow beach. Someone came to this cabana often, and had done so for several years.

The place itself, besides being overshadowed by poor yard work, was actually in excellent repair. The insides were dusty, weathered because of the open door and windows, but on the whole, clean and steady. Someone had covered three folded futons in the corner with a waterproof hide, tied up with string to keep out insects. A small table was set to one side of the room, across from a perfectly-centered fire pit. The only other furniture was a shelf in the far corner.

Kaoru got up slowly, moving toward the shelf again, to stare at the object it held, and the small, yellowed bit of paper nailed into the shelf's wood.

She couldn't read the note in the darkness, but she didn't have to, to know what it said:

For anyone who makes it this far:

The hero used an enchanted ball of string to find his way through the labyrinth.

Indeed beside the paper was a huge ball of string, easily the size of Kaoru's head. In the daytime, she had seen the string was dyed a vibrant blue. And it had been free of grime and dust. Though the note was old, the ball of string was brand new.

Kaoru touched the paper, wondering just how old it was. So yellowed, worn, curled at the edges. Penna Tan… She easily pictured the young man who had invaded her dojo with his desolate eyes and ripped away from her life the one who carried her heart with him wherever he went. His blond hair, the blotched skin under his eyes, the exhausted look to his movements and deadpan tone of voice.

It had been hard to hate him, even then, and Kaoru didn't force herself. But how long ago had he written this note or put the ball of string on the shelf? Who was he thinking of when he first scratched out the words? How many others had he taken from their homes, their loved ones?

The trip through Izu-shoto had, for her, been short. Kaoru had been in a silent, desperate, blind hurry, only unwinding and sorting through the information Aoshi and Yahiko had gathered from the dying Penna boy when they were back on a rented boat, moving again, she hoped, towards Kenshin.

The information had been very little by anyone else's standards, but after so many bottomless dead ends, it was like water to the parched.

The crippled boy and his group paid an old fisherman to keep and dock their boat every time they sailed through the archipelago, heading toward the mainland. Penna's Island, due west on the southwestern end of Izu-shoto. The excitement had been building, hopes soaring. It was easy to ignore Aoshi's dour attitude and his constant reminders to be on guard, and that they had no idea what they might find, that these Pennas had proven themselves dangerous with a weapon beyond their understanding, that they had no idea in what condition they might find Kenshin.

It didn't matter. After months, they finally knew where to look.

So what exactly had they been expecting, when they finally arrived at the little island, owned by a Penna Hikaru? Kaoru could admit to herself she expected people at least, hostile or otherwise. She had expected to meet resistance, if not with people, then the walls of a labyrinth.

She had imagined a maze would be made up of rising walls, or of thorny hedges like in a western fairy tale.

But there was…nothing. The island seemed too small to hold a terrifying Greek labyrinth. The bit of land was misshapen and craggy, like a broken pottery shard jutting out of the waters. Nothing on it but a small shelter. There weren't even any animals or fruit trees to suggest life had touched this place in some time. No reason to believe it was the right island and that Kenshin had ever been there.

Except a note and a ball of string.

Kaoru touched the paper again, reassuring herself that it was real, that this wasn't just one more dead end…

She turned away from the shelf, a little surprised to see that the sun was rising. Either it had been closer to morning that she had first thought, or she had been lost in her thoughts for a long time. She moved to the door to get a better look at the colors spreading on the water's surface, but instead her eyes were drawn to Aoshi.

He stood on the beach, where the water was just beginning to reach out far enough to touch his boots. He wasn't facing the water, but into the foliage of the island instead. In a nervous gesture Kaoru had no idea he could possess, he was running the thumb of his right hand back and forth across his lips.

She turned away from the door quickly, a little unsettled. _It's not your business, Kamiya, what Shinomori Aoshi does with himself when he thinks no one is watching._

But nervous habits, vacant stares, and idleness were just not Aoshi.

You're Misao, right?

Kaoru bit her lip, but decided to shake it off. Worrying about one man was more than enough. She moved to the fireplace, forcing her thoughts toward making breakfast. Or at least building a fire so that someone less inept at cooking could do it.

She, with some difficultly, roused Yahiko and sent him outside to find wood. She booted Sanosuke out of bed to help him, for good measure.

><><><><><><><><><><

"Well, _she's_ feeling a little better," Yahiko grumbled. "Sheesh. All that whining and talking she does in her sleep, _I_ hardly got any! Then she kicks me out of bed like that! Feh!"

" _I_ 'm the one she actually kicked," Sano said, dumping his entire load of wood into Yahiko's already-full arms and shoving him back in the direction of the cabana. Yahiko staggered, snarling several things involving the reproductive organs of assorted historical figures and animals. Sano winced, wondering where the boy could have learned that kind of language. The yakuza, most likely.

He gathered another armful of wood, just so she wouldn't make him go back out for a while, and walked past Aoshi, who hadn't moved from his spot on the beach, even though the water was lapping at his boots now.

"Aoshi?"

Aoshi glanced at him, his eyes a bit strange. At least to Sano, they were.

Sano frowned at him.

"You all right?"

Aoshi lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and went back to staring at the trees. Sano blinked at the back of his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then a blood-freezing scream cut through the air. Aoshi jerked, Sano dropped his wood, and the two of them dashed for the cabana.

" _Kaoru_!" That was Yahiko shouting. " _KAORU_!"

Sano barged in first, Aoshi only just behind him, to see Misao and Yahiko leaning over the fire pit. Kaoru was nowhere to be seen.

"What— ?"

Yahiko leapt to his feet. "She fell in! It's not a fire pit, it's a big hole!"

Misao moved aside to make room for Sanosuke and Aoshi. "She was going to drop some wood in, and she just tripped and…"

It was indeed not a fire pit, but a hole cut into the floor, framed with cut stone. As Sano stuck his arm inside, he felt an icy draft coming up from somewhere below. Wherever it led, it was unfathomably deep. They hadn't noticed it because of the shadows, mistaking the darkness for use and soot. An ingenious optical illusion.

"Jou-chan!" he shouted into the hole. "Kaoru! Are you all right!"

No answer.

There was a shaky moment of silence before Aoshi said, "It appears Kamiya-san has found the entrance to the labyrinth."

 


	14. The Explanation

" _Finally_!" a voice huffed as Kaoru lay across the stones, sucking in air greedily.

The fall itself had not been as frightening as falling into the pool. The pool had been black and icy cold, and she’d had to fight off the mindless panic and forcibly pull her wits together before she could be sure she was struggling in the right direction, toward the surface. The tiny circle of light— sunlight from the hole through which she had fallen— guided her once she had twisted herself around and caught sight of it. From below it was set in black and dirty stone and earth, broken through by tree roots.

Though not any warmer than the stacked rocks she had pulled herself onto, she pushed aside her chill and breathlessness and shoved aside her sopping bangs to face the one who had spoken to her.

The first thing she noticed— because that was, for the most part, all that the light from the ceiling could reach— was the chair in which he was sitting. It had wheels on it, large round wheels taller than the chair itself, with much smaller ones at the fore. His legs were covered with a blanket that seemed to be made of small, mismatched pieces of cloth sewn together.

She watched as his hands came to rest on the large wheels, and with a light push, the chair rolled forward on the smooth stone floor.

"All that racket up there, and only one came down? Who are you, and who are you with?"

The light fell over him. He was a young man, perhaps only a year or so younger than herself. Black, curling hair fell over what would actually have been a very handsome face, if not for a mocking smile stretched unpleasantly across his features.

The rest of the young man's body was warped and crooked, as though all the bones of his body had been broken multiple times. Only his eyes held strength. His eyes, blue like the ocean kissing the sand above their heads, were bright and hard with intelligence and danger.

"I said, who are you?" he demanded again. "Why are you here?”

"I am Kamiya Kaoru," she said, shivering, her teeth chattering. "And I'm here for Himura Kenshin."

All at once the smile vanished, and the young man stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Kamiya Kaoru…from Himura's little school in Tokyo?"

Kaoru did not bother to correct exactly who owned the dojo. “Where is he?”

The smile slid back onto his face. "Not any more for words than he was, I see. I'm Hikaru. Penna Hikaru. It's a pleasure to meet you, Kamiya-san."

"Where is Kenshin?” she demanded again.

Hikaru clicked his tongue. “You aren’t the typical, gently-reared Japanese girl, are you? Very well. Come along, then, if you really must know where he is."

He turned and began to wheel himself into the shadows.

Kaoru hesitated, casting her eyes at the ceiling, where her friends were. She was alone with only a wooden sword, in an enemy’s domain. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that he was going to lead her right to Kenshin, or that there weren't stronger and less crippled arms than Hikaru’s ready to take her down as soon as she stepped into the shadows with him. Better to wait until the others joined her.

Then Kaoru heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and realized that perhaps Hikaru might not need help after all.

Slowly turning her eyes to him, she saw that he had laid a pistol over his covered legs, and had held another in his hand, pointed at her midsection.

“I’m not a very good shot,” he admitted quietly. “You need a steady hand to aim well. Even so, we’re underground in small caverns and narrow tunnels. I won’t miss. Don’t worry about your friends up top. They’ll be joining you soon enough. Come along with me. I’ll bet you’re dying to see where your man has been living.”

><><><><><><><><><><

Kaoru followed Hikaru, who was using his misshapen legs to push himself along backwards in his wheelchair. There were no twists or turns on their way, yet, so he didn’t need to look where he was going and could devote all of his attention to her.

"Did you find your way here by my cousin’s clues?”

She only stared at him, walking.

"What a gloomy personality," Hikaru lamented mockingly. "Don't you ever smile, Girl?"

"My smile is in somewhere in the darkness here."

“What is that supposed to mean?”

"Kenshin. Kenshin is my smile."

Hikaru stared at her incredulously. "Is that why you risk so much, Girl? Is that why you've foolishly placed yourself at my mercy? Because he makes you _smile_?"

"I didn't say he makes me smile, Penna-san. Though he does, often. I said that Kenshin _is_ my smile. I can't smile without him. I can look like I'm smiling, but I can never truly do it when he's not with me. If I never saw him again, I would never smile again. I haven't smiled since you took him away from me. Do you have any idea what that's like, Penna-san?"

Her words might have been taken as sarcasm except, somehow, he felt she wasn’t being sarcastic. She sounded as though she really wanted to know if he knew that it was like.

Hikaru set his other gun in his lap, maneuvered his wheelchair around and began steering toward his chambers, needing a few moments' distance from the girl. She was far enough away from the entrance that he could send Hoshi after her if she tried to run back down the tunnel to her friends.

It was best, he decided, not to smile when he was around her anymore.

><><><><><><><><><><

He was only vaguely surprised when she followed him all the way into the rainbow room without trying to turn back.

Hikaru wheeled his way up one of the side ramps toward his usual place on the dais, into the crossing rainbows. Turning his chair, he took a moment to enjoy the expression of awe and surprise as she stood under the rainbows and light glittering through the Mindsifter.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" he said, just as Hoshi, huge and robust she-bear that she was, came running from one of the side chambers.

"Hikaru-sama! Where did you go? I was worried, I— " The muscular woman stopped, eyes widening at the sight of Kaoru.

Hoshi didn’t like surprises, and an unscheduled arrival of a woman, unescorted by the enforcers, was not part of the daily routine.

The big woman looked to him for direction, but he only shrugged and gestured subtly. Understanding, Hoshi brightened. Kaoru, knowing nothing of what was about to happen, watched her leave by a different tunnel.

"Where is Kenshin?" Kaoru asked.

Hikaru sighed. This girl was so single-minded. Did she never think of anything else?

"You'll see him soon enough. While we wait, I thought we might talk. Perhaps you would like…an explanation?”

He was genuinely surprised when Kaoru reacted with anger to his offer— controlled, inward anger, flashing in her eyes.

“Penna-san, I really don’t care _why_ you’ve done this. I understand well enough. You want revenge for something Kenshin did in the past. You’re not the only one and you’re not the first. What I do care about is where Kenshin is and what you’ve done to him. All I care about is finding him and bringing him home.

Hikaru folded his arms. “Kamiya-san, the history of this place is much bigger than you, me, or your man. You must be even a little curious. Since you must wait a short while for Himura, you might as well listen.

“I’m sure Tan already told you the first part. About the inventor, his son, and his nephew? He always tells the story when he collects our prisoners. Well, Dadairusu— or ‘Daedalus’, being his proper Greek name— lived on, and he never did stop trying to flee the deaths of his son and his nephew.

“He went mad because of his grief. They say genius and madness are closely related, and Daedalus proves the truth of that saying. He appeared in the legends of others a time or two, but for the most part he disappeared from history. He went on living, and he kept moving, kept traveling, and eventually ended up here in the east.”

Hikaru spread his arms theatrically. “Japan was very different back then, I would imagine. We don’t know what… _adventures_ …he might have had in his new life here, but we do know he learned something new that helped him create this. The Mindsifter. His greatest invention. His opus.”

He reached out and caressed one of the low-hanging crystals, careful not the stir the delicate Patterns.

"I'm not as intelligent as Daedalus. No one is. I don't know exactly how it works. I only know how to _make_ it work. I know that…whether I want to or not." His mouth twisted wistfully, and he let go of the crystal.

“We think it operates on the basic principles of hypnosis, but that’s just the basis. It’s so, so much more than mere power of suggestion. If you know how to use it, you can place compulsions in a person’s mind. Or brainwash them entirely. Destroy their former personality or build them a new one. Twist their thoughts or bind their will to your command. Erase a few days of memory or destroy every thought they’ve ever had. If there’s one thing we’ve learned, the human mind really is so very, very fragile.”

He watched Kaoru as her comprehension began to grow, watched the color drain from her cheeks and her face go stony.

“We’re not certain,” he continued, “exactly what the inventor’s original purpose for the Mindsifter was. We have a theory that he might have created it to treat madness, but if that was the case, it didn’t work for _him_. But whatever his intentions for it, he knew it couldn’t fall into the hands of the wicked or the ignorant. So he built a new maze to hide it, just as he once created a maze to hide a monster, a long time ago. And he conditioned his sons— the ones born in Japan after he settled here— to remain with the labyrinth and guard the Mindsifter forever. As would their children, and their children, and their children’s children’s children.”

Hikaru paused, for a moment less intent on Kaoru as he was on the very distant past. “He learned about the beliefs of reincarnation from your people, and he believed that his new sons were Icarus and his nephew Talos, restored to him. He wanted them to believe it too. The Mindsifter took care of that.

“And ever after, there have always been an Icarus and a Talos ruling this labyrinth. Or an Ikarusu and a Taro. Or sometimes they’re called Hikaru and Tan.”

“So you and Tan are descended from this inventor who lived thousands of years ago?” Kaoru guessed.

“That’s right. We are, I suppose, Japanese at heart, but we’re _mostly_ Greek in our bloodline. We ship in women from Greece to be our wives and produce the next generation. Female children are sent back to Greece with their mothers, and boys are raised in the labyrinth to rule the empire our ancestors built with the oubliette-like function of the labyrinth and the power to bend, break, or change the human mind. We are far beyond yakuza organizations, darker than the black market, and deeper and older than any secret or underground society and the roots of our influence stretches from beneath all of Europe and Asia. This is the rooftop of hell, Kamiya-san. But, you’re probably impatient to know what all of this has to do with Himura.”

Kaoru stood, waiting.

“The Icarus and the Taro of every generation are afflicted with a terrible curse, a desperate need Mindsifted into them as young boys.”

“You try to fly,” Kaoru guessed. “You try to build wings that will allow you to fly, like Ikarusu and Dadairusu.”

Hikaru nodded. “That’s correct. Only we _can’t_ do it. No one can. We fall. Our bodies break. We survive sometimes. We die sometimes. And this urge to fly is what kills us eventually. We all fall, like the first Icarus and Talos.

“You realize, at some point in our line some of us came to the understanding that we will never learn to fly, so some of our number started trying to find ways to free ourselves— or at least our successors— from the Mindsifter. Are you paying attention? This is where your man makes an appearance in this story.”

Kaoru waited.

“There was a gap between my father’s birth and mine that was bridged by one extra sibling in Tan’s line. His older brother, Taro. It was this gap, this rare time when there was no one to play Icarus opposite of Talos, that gave my cousin Taro a tiny chance of breaking the next generation free. That, and the Bakamatsu.”

“Let me guess,” Kaoru interrupted. “As Hitokiri Battousai, Kenshin ruined your chance by killing Taro?”

“Wrong.”

Kaoru's eyebrows raised in surprised.

“Hitokiri Battousai,” Hikaru spat, “ _Didn’t_ kill Taro. That’s what ruined our chance.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Taro, who was Mindsifted into being Talos before Tan and I were born, had no relative to be Icarus in his time. So, he was the only one who could ‘Sift the next male in line once he was born. So if anything happened to Taro, there would be no one to left to do it. Then all who were born after Taro would be free. Free to choose, free of the curse.

“Taro couldn’t refuse to use the Mindsifter, because his ‘Sifting wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t kill himself, because the ‘Sifting won’t allow us to deliberately harm ourselves. Outside of falling when we fail to fly, of course.

“The Bakamatsu never touched these islands, so Taro took up a sword and went to Kyoto. Joined the fighting without really picking a side. He was hoping to die. He couldn’t kill himself, and he couldn’t order anyone to kill him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope to _get_ himself killed.

“I don’t believe my cousin specifically went out looking for Hitokiri Battousai, but he did find him one day. He couldn't believe his luck! He challenged him, but… I suppose, the fighting was finally winding down by then, and Himura was losing his taste for killing. He wouldn't kill Taro. Himura wouldn't give us the release we needed. He only played around with my cousin, no matter how aggressive he was, no matter how he pleaded…until he eventually just knocked him out and left him.

"Maybe if Taro had gone into battle a little earlier, he might have had a better chance, especially if— ”

He stopped when he saw how the girl's posture had changed. She stood, head down, fists clenched by her sides, a tremor running through her body.

" _You_ …" she whispered. "You bastard. You _bastard_!"

Her face lifted, eyes both streaming tears and blazing with fury.

"All this time… _all this time_ , I thought you had punished Kenshin because of something that he did in the Revolution. But now…now I've found out you've done this to him for _sparing_ a life?!”

Hikaru stared hard at her over steepled fingers. “What is a hitokiri _for_? They exist because removing lives makes a difference. If there was ever a death that would have made a difference, it was my cousin Taro’s. A great blight of suffering that has gone for thousands of years would have been brought to an end. With one stroke of Himura’s sword, he would done more good than he did in ten years of wandering around with no purpose.”

“It wasn’t Kenshin’s fault this was done to you or your family. There had to be something else Taro or your other predecessors could have done. People you could have gone to for help.”

Hikaru laughed harshly. "This goes deeper than you know. Do you think, even for a second, that my predecessors brought people here and ruined their minds because they wanted to, or even because they were ’Sifted to do it? The Mindsifter makes up the links of our chains and keeps the curse running strong in our blood, but there are others that keep this horror story going as well, because what we do here brings them wealth and power. If the chains had been broken back then, they would have lost most of their power.”

“I don’t care! Kenshin did nothing but have a chance encounter with one of you madmen. A madman on whom he took _pity_.”

"Maybe so, but after the legendary hitokiri refused to kill him, my cousin gave up trying to die, came home, and in time ‘Sifted Tan and me. My cousin is now dead before he was sixteen years old. Take a look at _me_. Look at my body. It's reason enough for me to hate him.”

Kaoru stared at him for only a second's worth of silence before she lifted one of her arms and pointed at the gleaming web of the Mindsifter. "You used this on Kenshin?"

"Indeed."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but just then voices floated in from the tunnel leading from the pool.

"Ah, that would be your friends, finally deciding to join us,” Hikaru said. “I wonder what took them so long? Hoshi?"

Hoshi appeared at his call, followed by a small army of rough-looking men. She pointed to the tunnel and they started toward it, weapons ready.

"Make sure they know we have the girl," Hikaru said. "They might be more inclined to behave if they know."

Kaoru grasped the hilt of her wooden sword, and Hikaru clicked his tongue at her. "I thought you wanted to be with Himura-san? I told you you'd see him, didn't I?"

He watched the girl take several defensive steps back as Hoshi advanced on her, Hoshi’s body in a wrestling posture.

"You went through such effort to come here and be with him, it would be a shame to keep you apart."

 


	15. Berserker Kaoru

He wanted to sleep.

The ghostly images of the old lady came, often with entreaties. _Please get up, Kenshin-chan. You have to eat and move around a little…get your strength back._

It wasn't as if he wanted to ignore her, exactly, aside from being quite uncertain that she was real. He just really, really wanted to sleep.

In his dreams, it was better. The warmth of home. The sense of ones he missed. Sanosuke. Yahiko. Megumi, especially, when the pain was great and he remembered her special gift for soothing it away.

He dreamed of his master often. How he wished his master was here now. Just the thought was enough to drive the fear back. The dark things would run from the light of his blade.

But he was also afraid to see Master Hiko. Lying on the cold ground, he would turn away from his master's shadow and cover his head. Hiko wouldn't _hurt_ him, not now, not like this, but Kenshin didn't think he could bear his ungentle tongue. Not right now. He was already sorry. He didn't know for what he was supposed to be sorry, but he was. He really, really was. He didn't need the master's help to know what an idiot he was, especially since now he really _was_ an idiot.

And always, always there was Kaoru. Her hands, a bit rough and calloused at the palms, but so soft on the tops. These soft parts, the backs of her fingers, she'd brush against his forehead and cheeks. He always saw her within the light, because that's where she still was.

Then he would wake up, and it was dark instead. She was not there, and had never been. The fact usually brought him to tears, but also filled him with relief. If she was not where he was now, then that meant that she was _safe_ instead. It was simple enough, a real and whole thought that he could cling to…

But he wouldn't wish her real. In a way, he was even more afraid to see her than he was to see Hiko.

He didn't deserve the admiration. Not from her, not from any of them. Yet it was there. In their eyes. In the way they trusted him, believed in his strength. As Kenshin lay curled up beneath all the scraps and blankets Aijo could find, he felt hot tears on his cheeks.

_Where is my spirit?_ he wondered, and for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to gather the broken pieces of it. He cut himself the harder he tried. Over and over again, until he was forced to give up, or lose what little he had left…

How would she look at him, then, if she could see him now? See what he had allowed to happen?

　

With anger? Sadness? Disappointment?

_Pity_?

He squeezed his eyes shut. He could not bear it if she ever looked at him with eyes like that. He wanted her to remember him the way he was.

Not like this.

The tears tired him. Kenshin slept again. Far away, he thought he heard Aijo pleading again. _Hadn't_ he sent her away? Maybe that was a dream too.

Maybe it all was. All of it.

So it had to be okay to just keep sleeping.

><><><><><><><><><><

　

The rage was unbearable.

It burned away thought and reason in its white-hot inferno. It took away sight with blood, sucked away sound in a great roaring and left only dull echoes of the strongest sensations.

Impacts through her wrists, a burning in her throat. Her chest felt like it would explode, the very dim awareness that her breath was coming in short, harsh sobs.

The rage was _unbearable_.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

They had no right to touch Kenshin. He known so little happiness, he worked so hard, trying to make up for the things he had done, keenly feeling the sorrow of others, lifting so many burdens onto himself.

_Lift it off him!_ She felt her throat burn again, chest ever tighter as her fury dredged words from somewhere deep and cold. _Please lift it off! He's carried it long enough! Don't hurt him, don't shame him, please, it's already so heavy…so heavy…_

The fire began to smother in the waves of despair that came over her. Sensation came back, but she ignored it, drowning instead of burning now. Someone had caught hold of her, supporting her, a voice in her ear that she couldn't hear beyond someone sobbing close by.

A senseless non-reason, a temper tantrum. Something that was not in any way his fault… They hurt him as if it would lessen their own hurt. Took their anger, pain, and frustration out on him, inflicting it back on him- _using_ Kenshin. Oh, if they hurt him…if they hurt him--

" _KAORU! Will you say something_?! _Will you_?! _Kaoru_!"

She blinked slowly into the dark, blazing eyes of her only student. Barely an inch from her face, she felt his hands on her upper arms, nails digging into her skin.

She nodded shakily at him, taking in a few deep breaths. Her throat hurt.

Yahiko loosened his hold, but didn't let go. The way he looked at her made her nervous, eyes so wide and wary. "Wh-what…?"

She was on her knees, she realized. Her hand, knuckles white, was still clutching all that was left her splintered weapon, the hilt. How had that…?

She looked around. People were lying everywhere, some unconscious, some awake but cowering away against the walls, holding pained limbs and ribcages and aching heads. The woman who had been about to attack her before the world had whited out, Hoshi, was lying on the floor near the bottom of the dais.

Sano, Misao, and Aoshi stood to the left of her, wearing expressions not unlike Yahiko's.

"Jou-chan, are you all right?" Sano asked quietly.

Kaoru stood up. Yahiko still held on, as if afraid she might run away. She placed her hands, one still holding the broken hilt, on his shoulders, hoping to steady them both.

"I think so," she said hoarsely, throat burning with every word. "What…what happened here?"

"You did."

The words were spoken by Aoshi, soft but matter-of-fact. He drew winces from Sano and Misao, though neither of them took their eyes off Kaoru to look at him.

"I…I did?"

"We took care of some of them over there," Misao said, weakly gesturing at the way they had come. "But…but when we came in, you were all over the place…and…yelling things…"

Again, Kaoru's eyes swept over the scene, the couple-dozen downed thugs scattered across he stone floor. "I did this?"

"You did, yes."

All eyes turned to Penna Hikaru, who had not moved from his place. A gun sat within easy reach on his lap, but the hand he might have used to wield it was supporting his chin instead, thoughtful eyes on Kaoru.

"I knew you were a kendo teacher, but I had no idea you were a berserker, Kamiya-san."

"Where's Kenshin?" Sanosuke ground out.

Hikaru sighed. "Not another one! Don't any of you care about _anything_ else? This is a labyrinth. It's meant for losing things, for holding secrets. Happy hunting."

Alarm sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through Kaoru, but it was Sano and Aoshi, with Misao just at their heels, who moved first, dashing up the dais as Hikaru hauled himself up. In a maddeningly unhurried movement to contrast with the frantic pace of the three, he reached out and pulled at a small rope, neatly camouflaged by the chaos of the Mindsifter.

They stopped as the room shook, the rainbows shattered, and a hollow roar completely blotted out the sound of the waterfall. The last Kaoru saw of Penna Hikaru was his twisted smile as a great stone wall came crashing from the darkness of the ceiling. The dais was split in half, and the Mindsifter and Hikaru were sealed on one side.

The shock passed, if feet were lost they were regained, and over a terrible ringing in her ears, Kaoru could hear Sano's futile swearing as he slammed his fist into the thick wall.

It was carved with designs, murals, like the walls surrounding the Mindsifter behind it had. But these were not of young boys falling. They were different angles of a young man and woman, and a ball of string changing hands…

"Did anyone remember to bring the string?"

The question sounded odd in the air, effectively ruining Sano's angry tirade. A fist still against the stone wall blocking him from his quarry, he blinked in frustrated surprise in her direction. "What?"

Aoshi reached into his coat and pulled out the blue ball, holding it out for Kaoru to take if she wished. She did, thankful he had had the presence of mind to bring it along. It was wet--like they all were--from being in the underground pool, but it should still serve its purpose.

Kaoru placed the ball at the crook of her arm, and transferred the broken hilt to the same hand. To anyone watching, she might have seemed calm as she crossed the stone floor to where the robust woman who had attempted to capture her lay. In truth, she was feeling tired, with a layer of detachment that may have been the beginnings of shock. Only there wasn't time to deal with that now. Not with Kenshin so close. Kenshin needed them.

Hoshi was stirring, bringing shaking hands up to her bruised face. Kaoru felt only the smallest pang of guilt, overshadowed by mild amazement. She had no memory of causing this damage. Hikaru had called her a berserker. Whatever that meant, it was not an experience she wanted to repeat. Ever.

She stopped just by Hoshi's side, the bulky woman glancing up and drawing back with a sharp breath at the sight of her.

Again, Kaoru could only feel the vaguest remorse over the woman's fearful reaction. If anything, it was a compliment. Kaoru felt like one of the breezes that had once came from under the rainbows would be too much of a burden to keep her standing.

She showed none of this as she knelt by Hoshi's side. "I need to get to Kenshin. I am certain you know where I might find him. Take me to him."

><><><><><><><><><><

　

"Hikaru-sama?"

He sat in his wheelchair again, staring at the reversed carvings on the wall he had dropped. The Mindsifter glittered before it. The impact had jerked loose a few of the Patterns, which would need to be repaired when he got the opportunity. A nuisance, that. Tan had been much better with its maintenance that Hikaru could ever hope to be.

He turned his head just enough that Oaka would know that he had heard him and not waste time looking for confirmation.

"What do we do now, my lord?"

Oaka had met with the bad end of the Kamiya girl's unrestrained fury. In fact it was over the enforcer's collarbone that she had finally broken her weapon. She could still do several interesting things with what was left of the hilt, though.

Seeing that girl, eyes glazed over, ragged battle cries bursting from her throat as she ploughed through his best fighters like a warrior of a thousand battles…

Kenshin meant a lot her, if his coming to harm incited such a reaction.

Perhaps it was possible that the others with Kamiya girl were full of their own surprises.

Hikaru would do his best not to underestimate them again.

"Hikaru-sama?"

"Don't worry about them, Oaka. All we've to do is bide our time."

After all, the labyrinth itself had its own surprises.

><><><><><><><><><><

　

They followed a path, Hoshi unwillingly in the lead. She walked slowly, holding an aching head and muttering obscenities…but no more than that. Not while she was the captive of several angry, glowering fighters.

Sano had wanted to try breaking the wall that separated them from Hikaru, but Kaoru talked him out of it easily enough just by reminding him that it was more important to find Kenshin right now.

She had told them the "reason". Why Kenshin had been taken from them, why he had been held prisoner in this cold, dark place.

A bitter, furious silence had fallen over them all after a few expressions of disbelief. The silence was painful. Most of them were in need of some kind of reaction. A chance to scream, and enemy to fight, vengeance to be planned…

But there was no time for that. Not yet. They were too close to Kenshin now to allow their objective to change or waver.

Impatience began to build on this tension the longer they walked. Sano, who walked behind Hoshi, keeping a close eye on her, tried to remember the way back but he was soon hopelessly turned around.

He hoped at least one of the others was paying attention, because if they had to depend on him to get back, well…he had a hard enough time finding his way when he wasn't trying to do it by torchlight underground.

More twists, more turns. Left at the first fork, right at the next. Walking and walking, until their only torch, held aloft by Misao, began to snap and sputter.

Kenshin didn't do anything wrong. It had almost become like the most useless mantra to the former fight merchant. _He didn't do anything._ For once, Kenshin was completely innocent.

Which made him, just this once, a…victim.

Sano's fists clenched. God, if this woman didn't move any faster--

Light twinkled around another bend, dim and flickering, cast by a fire. "There," Hoshi said. "He'd been living there with this old couple--"

There was a rush all at once, not so much that they didn't remember to keep an eye on their guide, but their eagerness to see Kenshin had them almost running the last several feet through that low, dipping tunnel.

The little cavern it opened into did indeed have an old man and woman there. The old lady, who was stirring a thin soup in a pot, looked up in surprise at the large group that had intruded in her home. The old man move nearer to her, knuckles tightening on the long stick in his hand.

But no sign of Kenshin. No gleam of red hair in the shadows.

Sano heard a deep breath, taken in by Kaoru, before she moved out of the group toward the wary-eyed old couple.

"Please, we're sorry to trouble you, but we were told our friend might be here. Have you seen him? Himura Kenshin, he's got long red hair and a scar on his left cheek?" Kaoru drew two lines across her own cheek with her finger.

The old lady smiled blandly. "Why, yes, we've seen him, dear."

"You have?" Yahiko piped eagerly.

"Yes. But he ran off from here some time ago…poor boy. He never stays long, always coming and going…"

Her words faltered when Kaoru head lowered into her hands. Manners forsaken, Kaoru made a low, helpless sound in her throat.

Sano felt a lump in his own. _So close_.

He moved to Kaoru's side, gently pulling her until she turned around, murmuring an apology to the oldsters for disturbing their dinner.

The old woman, looking uncertain, opened her mouth, but stopped when her husband put his hand on her shoulder. "No trouble, young man," he said.

After the old man and woman insisted they didn't know anything about Kenshin or his whereabouts, a polite but not very serious offer to stay for dinner was made, but even if any of them were inclined to take food, there was not an appetite among them.

The next several hours were spent forcing Hoshi to guide them through other caverns were other people were living.

"Living" being a term to be used loosely with the hungry, hopeless people that lay about like piles of rags in some of the more open caverns. The destitution, the refuse, the smells… Most faces turned from them, looking away into meager cook fires or to companions because the group traveled with Hoshi, a well-known enforcer. Others, though, were half-demented, and came nearer, eyes eager and fingers outstretched to touch strong, healthy, and young flesh darkened from sun, and carrying the smells of fauna and fresh air…

They were easy enough to scatter with quick movements or sharp words.

Made that way by those glittering toys on strings. The Mindsifter, Kaoru called it. It was awful, what had been done to these people.

The further they went, the worse off Kaoru became, and eventually Yahiko wasn't doing much better. Kaoru had been shaky since her limit break in the rainbow room, and Yahiko kept looking at the people in the communal caves like they were ghouls. Once or twice Sano almost though he heard the boy breathing strangely, the ragged breathing of barely-repressed anger or sorrow. Sano said nothing.

What could he say? He felt the same. Even as he kept his eyes trained on the shadows, looking for a hint of red, or a gleam of violet eyes in the dark, or peering through ratty blankets. Even as his tongue automatically asked anyone who looked like they might listen, of news of a short, skinny man with a cross-shaped scar.

They had taken so long to get here. It had been _so long_. The things that Tan had said. That he would suffer. That they wouldn't recognize him. What had been done to him? What would they find?

Finally Sano had enough and had their unwilling guide take them back to the room where they had came from, which was now cleared of the men they had fought earlier.

It was no longer so well lit since Hikaru had shut out the sunlight, but a lot of fresh torches were kept here. No lamps, no lanterns, just sticks and cloth soaked with oil.

Sano left Kaoru, resting by a wall with her face on her knees, with Yahiko sitting nearby. The two of them looked drained.

Misao and Aoshi were effectively standing watch on Hoshi, who didn't look like she wanted to do much more than sit on the floor holding her aching head.

Sanosuke briefly considered resting himself, but he was too full of restless energy. That old man and woman from before… Something just didn't seem right…

Coming to a quick decision, he lit an unsullied torch by another hanging on a wall sconce and went back to Kaoru.

"Jou-chan?" he said softly, waiting for her to lift her head. She looked so pale and tired that he felt guilty for waking her. "You still got that string, right?"

She nodded and he held out a hand for it.

He held it for a moment, rolling it around until he found where the end of the string was tucked. He unwound it carefully, loosening several feet of slack before handing the end to Kaoru.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go look around for a while. I'll use this to find my way back."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. I won't go far."

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but seemed to change her mind. She nodded and wrapping the string around her hand so she wouldn't drop it if she fell asleep.

Amazing himself, Sanosuke actually did find his way back to the old couple's cavern. He had been looking in on light and campfires, and eventually found his way back to theirs, from a different end of the cave than Hoshi had showed them.

He moved through he tunnel in a crouch, because the ceiling was so low. It was not his intention to sneak, at first. Only to go back and talk to them, ask them about Kenshin's condition, if they knew how he was. A good idea, now that Kaoru wasn't around. He could prepare her, maybe, if it was very bad…

But he stopped just before he came out of the tunnel.

There was a third person in the cave now.

A cold, creeping feeling Sano couldn't name washed through him. It made his eyes water and his fingertips go numb as the old lady coaxed the small, meek form to sit beside the fire.

He was mostly naked, and his hair had grown much longer, falling over his face and down his back in dirty tangles. Pitifully thin, collar bone too sharp, rips too pronounced. An arm was curled up and pressed to his chest, the hand wrapped in soiled strips of cloth.

_You won't recognize him_ , Penna Tan had said. And Sano almost didn't. If he hadn't known the sight of him so well, if he wasn't so distinctive, perhaps if he hadn't lifted his head to display that so-familiar scar on his cheek…

But as it was, there was no doubt that the shivering, waiflike little thing letting the old woman situate him, drawing a blanket around his bare shoulders, was their missing rurouni.

Sano came out the tunnel completely and walked thoughtlessly toward them, legs heavy like lead. The ball of string had dropped from his fingers to the floor, still leading the way back to his friends.

There was a small alcove, a little groove dug below the overhang. When they had come before, Kenshin had been there, lying in that groove and covered over with the blankets. His hiding place had only seemed like a pile of rags.

Kenshin was quickly blocked from view when the old man moved in front of him and his wife, holding up his stick.

"You won't be taking him anywhere, Boy," he growled through clenched teeth. "He’s been hurt enough.”

"Mister," Sano said roughly, needing Kenshin back in his sight again, "That man is my best friend. We've been through hell trying to get him back. Now move _out of my way_."

Not waiting for an answer, Sano reached out and snatched the stick easily from the oldster's grip. Tossing it aside, he moved past the old man…and stood before Kenshin.

The rurouni had not once looked up, staring blearily at the flickering fire. Sano's heart thundered in his ears, and his hands shook as he knelt in front of his friend. He looked for reaction, acknowledgement, recognition…but there was nothing.

"Kenshin?" Sano whispered, then, louder, "Kenshin? Kenshin, it's me. It's Sano."

Finally the pale, dirty face turned to him, and with one slow blink, his dulled purple eyes seemed to get a little clearer.

Encouraged, Sano put a hand on his shoulder.

Kenshin jerked like he'd been shocked. His eyes widened, jaw dropped. Sano realized then that Kenshin had not believed he was real until he touched him.

He kept that grip, tightening it a little to reinforce the truth, and in turn, Kenshin lifted a shaking hand, fingers out to touch his face. "S-s-seh…Sah…S-Sano?"

Sano leaned his face against Kenshin's timid touch, trying to prove that he was real. "That's right, Buddy. It's me."

Kenshin sucked in his bottom lip, teeth pressing on it as moisture filled his impossibly wide eyes. "Sah-Sano…I…I…s-sorry. So s-sorry."

" _Kenshin_ ," Sanosuke whispered, pulling his friend against him. "It's not your fault. For once, _it's not your fault_. It's all right. I've got you now. We're going to get you home."

"Hhh…home," Kenshin murmured, his unbandaged hand gripping Sano's jacket. "Sano?" he said again, a hesitation, a desperate question in his tearful voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I'm here, Kenshin. Shh, I got you now. It'll be all right now."

 


	16. Furies

  
Whoever had done the carvings was a great artist.

Yahiko found his eyes drawn to the smallest details. The murals were elegant in their way, but somehow it felt wrong to be admiring them.

He was only trying to keep his thoughts off Kaoru, and what she had done.

He mentally shook himself. It wasn't as if she'd killed anyone or anything. He looked at her, dozing with her head on her knees beside him.

No, she hadn't killed anyone. But she had scared him.

When she had fallen thought the fireplace, there was only a few minutes of indecision. Questions, spoken aloud or not, were asked. Should they all drop down after her, since this was obviously a way in? Should someone be left behind in case there wasn't a way back up?

Sano wasn't willing to leave her down there alone for more than a few moments, and jumped in before anything else could be decided.

Yahiko didn't take long following suit. After all, if there was a way in, there had to be way out. Somehow they came and went from here.

Their first fright, after getting out of the cold, dark water, was that she was nowhere to be seen. Then, following the only visible tunnel, they suddenly found themselves in a very close-quarters fight.

Sano was taking most of it, and made progress by grabbing the man in front of him and throwing him back on the ones trying to pour in. Eventually the ones in the back were getting the idea of the danger and were trying to back up before they all fell over each other and got crushed.

Swords were drawn, fighting stances. Something to do, finally.

That was, until they stepped into a huge, lighted cavern and laid their eyes on Kaoru.  
Yahiko hadn't had as much opportunity to see even Kenshin fighting multiple opponents at once. The best fights of Kenshin's he'd been witness to had been one-on-one.

For several still and shocked moments, Yahiko could only stare. He recognized the movements of his own sword style, of course, but the way that she used them—!

The fighters were untrained, just swinging their weapons like clubs whether they were really clubs or not. Kaoru whirled and weaved, knocking weapons aside, bringing the bokken down on unprotected heads, against open stomachs or across unguarded shins.  
She ducked a clumsy swipe by real sword, smashed the fellow in the face, left foot stepping out in a fluid movement that allowed her to take the next closest opponent with the point in his stomach. The next advance got another in the throat.

Teeth bared when she wasn't screaming incoherently. Eyes vacant. In a rage, one was supposed to fight wildly, without form. But her engagements were nearly flawless. The best he had ever seen from her.

Wildly Yahiko thought, when he saw Kenshin again, he would ask, "Is there a little bit of Battousai in all of us?" If there was, he saw it now in his teacher.

If there was, would this ever happen to him? Would he ever reach his breaking point, or, perhaps, even a point of no return?

What had been happened? What had set her off like this?

Kenshin! Was Kenshin all right?

All of this, observations, thoughts, only took seconds, before Yahiko had to focus his attention on his own battles or risk losing teeth.

The four of them fanned out a bit, trying to get closer to Kaoru, especially when a large man got too close and she pulverized her weapon on his shoulder. He went down, but that didn't stop her from using the hilt, flat on the heels of her hands, to snap his head up at his chin.

Somehow she knew about someone coming up behind her, whirled, and performed the same move on him.

Sano reached her side first, face pinched and worried. Yahiko noticed how he was careful not to get too close. Kaoru didn't look like she might recognize friend from foe.

One enemy at a time. Yahiko ducked a club swung at his head. His opponent wide-open, Yahiko used his foot to trip him, blocked the staff of the next one coming at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aoshi dispatching his own opposition almost lazily. Misao's attention kept straying to Kaoru, her face pale and not employing her usual zealous acrobatics or banter.

Was Kenshin all right? Was he?

The fight thinned out, a dozen men went down by the sword or the fist. Anyone else retreated, not having expected such resistance. Maybe the terrifying warrior Kaoru had unexpectedly become had unnerved them.

She went down on her knees. Suddenly. She hadn't been hit, or at least, she hadn't seemed to be. Maybe she had taken one before they had shown up, and only just now felt it.  
Yahiko ran to her then, sliding a few inches on his knees as he came down in front of her. Her face was still cold fury, eyes still blank, and he reached out hesitantly and touched her arms. She didn't attack him, but she didn't notice him either.

He began trying to wake her. It took several minutes of him calling to her before she finally blinked, eyes clearing, and answered him.

 

He closed his eyes, leaning against the cool stone of the wall. He knew he should be keeping watch, but he had a feeling that when it was this dark, his hearing might serve him better than his eyes anyway. So he kept his ears tuned for footfalls echoing in one of the tunnels and tried to relax his body. Resting while he could. Who knew if there would be more fighting soon?

Kenshin wasn't dead. At least, not that they knew of.

Kaoru was…so upset. Had been upset to tears when she told them of Tan and Hikaru's reasons for taking Kenshin from them in the first place.

For essentially nothing. For something that didn't even really have anything to do with the Bakumatsu, or, for that matter, with Kenshin himself.

No matter how many times it was said or thought, it was still as unbelievable as though hearing it for the first time.

Yahiko heard movement and saw Misao moving closer to him. "Hey…" she said, the look on her face suggesting she was going to say something he might not want to hear. "You know, those guys…Tan and Hikaru? They got busted up jumping off high places, trying to fly…?"

She trailed off, like she was hoping her point was so obvious he’d just get it.

He didn't, only giving her a few confused blinks.

She pursed her lips and swallowed hard. "You don't think we'll have to deal with anything like that with Himura when we get him back, do you?"

This was not something he had thought of, and the idea sent a shiver through his very blood.

He took a deep breath. His resolve held firm. First, Kenshin. Kenshin's life.

Kenshin's safety. Then feel. Then react. Then fight, bawl, or scream, or whatever impulse came to him first. Only then. Only when there was a single moment when he was sure that Kenshin and the others didn't need his strength. His support.

"We'll deal with that when there's something to deal with," he said, voice firm. "We are talking about Kenshin. He won't let something like this bring him down."

><><><><><><><><><><

  
Trying his hardest to ignore an annoying muscle jumping in his throat, Sano swallowed many times as he examined the damage that had been done to his friend's hand.

Thank heavens for Megumi, whose magic had still somehow managed to reach and be a comfort to Kenshin. Maybe that's why he didn't have gangrene from his fingertips to his elbow right now.

He cleaned, medicated, and wrapped Kenshin's hand, using some of his own bandaging, which was cleaner than what the old couple had been using. He'd wanted to talk to the disoriented rurouni a little more, but that damn tightness in his throat prevented him from making more than a few soothing noises in his cheeks when Kenshin flinched at his handling.

"K-Ka-o-ru?" Kenshin whispered, eyes narrowed with more concentration than one should ever have to use when simply speaking. "Ya-Yahiko?"

Sano licked dry lips before answering. "They're fine," he said, knowing that's what Kenshin would want to know first.

The redhead closed his eyes in relief.

The string, Sano suddenly remembered. Finished with Kenshin's wound, Sano got up and started to walk to where he'd left it at the mouth of the lower tunnel. He couldn't just leave that lying around. If it got lost or stolen or something, he'd never find his way back to—

There was a warning cry from the old lady and a crash behind him. He barely spun around in time to catch Kenshin as the rurouni tackled him. Thin arms around him in a stranglehold, Sano brought his trapped arms up to Kenshin's bare back, bewildered and no little bit alarmed.

The lucidity Kenshin had shown when asking about Kaoru and Yahiko was completely gone, replaced by stark terror and confusion so extreme that it was actually painful to look at him.

"Kenshin!" Sano said, too sharply, making Kenshin flinch and lower his head. Instantly filled with remorse, Sano clumsily patted at Kenshin back. Lowering his voice, he tried again, "It's okay, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you. Are you crazy? After all I went through to find you?"

Kenshin didn't respond other than to tighten his arms. He didn't understand.

Staring at his bowed head through hot, dry eyes, Sanosuke felt his throat obstructed again. He felt mute and suffocated. He would allow no tears, but this was almost harder to deal with than if he'd come here to find that Kenshin had died.

His friend had an incredible mind. It was probably full of warring things, of the sword and destruction, but it was also full of thoughts that were soft and protective. Kenshin could impart himself in both word and expression like no one else Sano had ever known.  
To see him now, stripped of that great power of mind, it was painful to see. It hurt more than anything Sano could remember.

"I'll kill them," he whispered.

Kenshin looked up. Then he smiled, throwing Sano off-guard with the sudden change in expression. "No, Sano," he said. Clearly. No stammering.

Sanosuke stared at him a moment, his chest heaving with either an urge to laugh or certain other, unmanly noises he simply would not allow. Even like this, Kenshin still…

He was going to be all right!

Sano took a deep breath, hope spreading through him. He hadn't actually thought the words, but the fear had been there, that this was permanent, that Kenshin might be like…like this for the rest of his life.

"You're still in there," he breathed.

But Kenshin wouldn't be thrown off his current train of thought just for Sano's relief. Eyes narrowing with impatience, he reached out with his good hand and gave his taller friend's forelock a tug. "Sano."

"What? Oh. Yeah, yeah, I won't kill anybody."

Satisfied, the redhead let go and backed up a bit, forehead furrowing in a way that suggested he wasn't certain why he had been standing so close in the first place.

Still looking confused, Kenshin turned to see Aijo and Daisuke, who stood together, both of them looking almost as lost as he did, then turned back to Sano.

"Let me guess," Sano said, a little dryly. "You want to bring them along?"

Kenshin nodded.

"Fine." Sanosuke was a little angry with the old man and woman for hiding Kenshin, but he understood that they were also trying to protect and take care of him while he was the weakest Sano had ever seen him…so the least he could do would be to bring them out of this hell too.

As Sano introduced himself, he watched Kenshin, watched the rurouni's eyes change as he tried to stay focused. Tried to keep up with what was going on.

The old woman, stunned, looked at her husband. "I can't believe we turned his Kaoru-dono away!"

Daisuke shifted guiltily. "Yeah, well…it's all right now. This young man has come to bring him back home."

"I'll get you out too," Sano promised, pushing away the last of his grudge. "Unless you want to stay for some reason?"

"No!" they shouted in unison.

><><><><><><><><><><

  
Their going was slow. Kenshin was too weak to go the distance. He wanted to walk on his own at first, but soon he was hoisted onto Sano's back, his breathing heavy in deep sleep. Aijo and Daisuke followed, with Aijo carefully rolling up the ball of string as they walked.

Sano was trying to think of a way he could explain Kenshin's condition to the others. Of course they knew something would be wrong with him…but to see it…

It was difficult to wrap the mind around, difficult to know what to say or do.

He winced when he imagined just bringing Kenshin in, thought of how fragile he was right now, and how it would overwhelm him when everyone ran to him at once without giving him a chance to recognize them first, asking their questions, trying to touch him, and then seeing what had been done to him as a result of the Mindsifter, he didn't know how Kenshin might understand their anger. Sano still wasn't sure Kenshin understood everything said to him. Couldn't stand seeing the frustration on his friends face as he tried to communicate with his broken speech, unable to remember the words he wanted to use.

And Kenshin still didn't want him killing anyone.

"Is he getting heavy, Son? I know I have a few years on me now, but I wouldn't mind taking him a little ways," Daisuke offered.

Sano's hands, under Kenshin's knees, tightened a little. "No, he's not heavy. Kenshin's never heavy."

That taken either as it was or how Sano meant it, Kenshin wasn't heavy, not even while he was sleeping. As if there wasn't enough to deal with, the girls were going to have to work on getting some meat back on his bones when they got back.

The oldsters didn't speak much, and Sano was too preoccupied for conversation. He decided he would leave Kenshin with Daisuke and Aijo a little around the bend where his friends were resting, and then take them all aside to explain that he'd found Kenshin, and for them to be more gentle than usual when they saw him.

"How is Jou-chan going to take this?" he moaned quietly. The last time he saw her, Kaoru wasn't looking all that much stronger than Kenshin did at the moment.

"Ka'ru?" Kenshin murmured sleepily.

"It's nothing, Kenshin. You can go back to sleep.”

But he only felt Kenshin stiffen on his back. His right hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Sano…?"

"What's wrong, Kenshin?"

"I-is, Ka'ru-d-dono…?"

"Yeah, she's here. We're going to see her right now—"

Sanosuke stopped walking when Kenshin suddenly began to struggle, trying to get down. Confused, Sano let him, then had to lunge to catch him when he tried to dash back down he tunnel from where they had come—

"Kenshin!" He grabbed his arms, as Kenshin struggled wildly, trying to get away. "What are you doing? What's wrong—"

"Kenshin-chan!" Aijo was there, her wrinkled hands grabbing Kenshin on either side of his face. "Kenshin, listen to— Kenshin, listen!" she ordered firmly.

To Sano's surprise, he stopped struggling, only stood there breathing hard through clenched teeth.

Aijo's face softened as she held Kenshin's still between her hands. "Kenshin-chan, Kaoru won't be angry with you. Do you hear? She won't be mad at you. She's worked so hard to come and get you back. You can't run and hide from her now. Think of how sad she'll be."

He lowered his head, shoulders shaking. "But…b-but…not l-like this." He lifted his hands, one fine and one bandaged and let them fall. "Her eyes…be d-different." He looked up then, looking to Sano for understanding. "D-different eyes, S-Sano."

Sanosuke took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Then he knelt down carefully so that Kenshin was looking down into Sano’s face for once.

"Buddy, when I'm looking at you now, are my eyes different?" he said slowly.

Sano kept his eyes open and steady and on Kenshin's for a long moment before the rurouni shook his head.

He stood up again, gave Kenshin's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Okay? We tried so hard, searched so long to get you back. Please, please don't go away again."

Kenshin fidgeted, looking rather ashamed of himself. "I'm s-sorry, Sano."

"It's all right. You understand?”

Kenshin nodded slowly. "I understand, Sano."

Again, he didn't stammer.

><><><><><><><><><><

At first, Aoshi wasn't sure if he should react as a low, rumbling beat suddenly sounded from one of the largest tunnels, a distant quick roll of sound that made the ground vibrate slightly. Was that real?

He looked to the others, watched them get to their feet, their eyes on the large tunnel, the one where Sano had disappeared.

"What is that?" Misao demanded.

No one had an answer.

><><><><><><><><><><

Sano stopped, grasping Kenshin protectively, eyes trained on the darkness ahead. The torch Daisuke was holding was not strong enough to burn away the darkness for more than a few feet.

"That came in the direction we're going," Daisuke said uneasily. "Is it something your friends are doing?"

Sano had no idea, but he didn't think so.

><><><><><><><><><><

"That's not an earthquake," Misao said.

"It sounds kind of like a lot of people are beating drums," Yahiko murmured.

Another beat sounded, a greater tremor beneath their feet. This time, a low whistle accompanied the sound.

Kaoru clutched the end of the string that led straight into the noise.

><><><><><><><><><><

Sano had taken the string again, intending to roll it back up as he walked along, keeping the others behind him. But instead of the light pressure he expected to feel on the line, it came freely, sliding slack into his hands as he reeled it in, winding it around his hand.  
His eyes widened as he found the reason for there to be no resistance on the string. Aijo's hand raised to her mouth as he held up the frayed end of the string, which was damp and looked like it had been savaged, chewed through.

Sano sucked in his breath sharply. "Not good."

><><><><><><><><><><

  
The echoing pulses of sound kept coming, closer and closer, causing the walls to shake and stalactites to crack and fall, showering the cavern with chunks of rock that danced along the floor with every beat of the drumming noise.

"Sanosuke!" Kaoru shouted, knuckles white where she clutched the string.

Yahiko snagged her arm, yanking her back away from the tunnel. "Kaoru, something's coming!"

The whistle was becoming more and more high pitched as it approached, and it was sounding more like shriek than a controlled sound, a eerie accompaniment to the pounding drum. The cavern was shaking constantly now, and it became clear that something was definitely coming.

It was coming fast.

It was almost there.

  
><><><><><><><><><><

"Are they loose?" Hikaru demanded cheerfully as Oaka, pale-faced and sweating, squeezed his way into the little food-store fissure where his employer had temporarily taken up residence.

"Yes, Sir, but how will we catch them again? And what about Hoshi?"

Hikaru waved a hand dismissively. "Hoshi can look after herself. As for how we're to catch them again, and so I can get this situation back under my control, I'll have to have you go to the surface for something."

"Sir?"

"My cousin took the Shortsifter with him. I need you to recover it, Oaka."

The enforcer nodded quickly. "Yes, Hikaru-sama." Having the Shortsifter again would make things considerably easier.

Hikaru rubbed his hands together absently. "Careless of us to let him take it. But he's always had it. Guess it didn't seem right they should be parted, in the end."

"What if I can't find it?"

He reclined back in his wheelchair. "Well, then, my friend, I suppose that it would be safe to say that we're in trouble."


	17. Arrivings

 

Kenshin came to himself very suddenly, came to register that he was on his stomach with his eyes squeezed shut and shouting his head off. His right hand was clenched around something, and he could feel Sano's weight pressed on top of him, hugging him tightly.

He knew it was Sano because he could hear him begging quietly in his ear, "Kenshin, it's me. It's okay, it's me, it's only me. Nobody can hurt you anymore. Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, Kenshin. Please, it's just me. It's Sano. I…I'll protect you, Kenshin, I swear…I swear…"

It was the increasing shakiness to Sano's voice that broke through Kenshin's panicked haze. He quieted. He thought for a moment he was shaking, but then he realized it was Sano instead. They were lying on the cold ground, which was no longer quaking and rumbling. And Sano was upset, but why? Kenshin couldn't remember why he had been upset himself.

Then, with a jolt, he recalled. This was his fault.

When the ground had still been shaking, Kenshin held out his hand toward it, but of course it didn't stop.

He remembered he was afraid, but it was a tangled sort of fear. It didn't seem like trembling ground could hurt him. No, that's right. He wasn't afraid for himself.

His features scrunched as he struggled to think. Sano and Aijo and Daisuke had been talking. They had sounded troubled, and it distracted him. The tendrils of thought he tried to grasp eluded him. He hissed out his breath in frustration.

Then it hit him. Hard as one of his master's Ryutsuisen.

"Kaoru!" he'd shouted, drawing the attention of his three friends. He smacked his right hand to his left side, but of course the sword wasn't there. He hadn't expected it to be, and yet he had the constant need to double-check everything. Everything. Sometimes it seemed like he could feel the warm cloth of a gi on his shoulders, but when he brought up a hand to feel, there would be nothing. Maybe his sakabato was likely there as not in the same way.

But confirming that it really wasn't, for now, he looked around quickly, spied his old stick still held by Daisuke. He darted for it, snatched it from the old man in a greedy sort of way. No connection was made for the guilt he might have felt for his action, or the simple courtesy it would have taken for asking; he had only known that he had used this stick before and needed it now. Kaoru was in danger. As was Yahiko.

Then he whirled and started to run in the direction of the noise. Voices had called his name from behind him, but none of them were Kaoru's so they couldn't possibly be—

Then someone tackled him. The unexpectedness of it, and the pain that went through his injured left arm broke Kenshin's fragile hold on reality. His mind went back to the darkness. Big Hands that grabbed him, held him down, that twisted and hurt. Searching him for things he didn't have. Asking him questions he didn't understand. Wanting things he could not give.

Overcome with terror, he fought like always, screaming until his throat began to hurt. His hand with the stick was trapped under him, and the other one hurt so much.

But it was Sano. Sano was trying to stop him from running off.

Abruptly, Kenshin felt himself being flipped over, and was staring up into Sano's face. To his great dismay, he saw Sano's eyes were very wet. Filled with moisture. Nothing that would spill, but more than enough to show just how hard this was on him. Shame flushed through Kenshin, and he felt a prickling in his own eyes.

But Sanosuke mistook the tears, and his eyes widened with distress. "No, Kenshin, don't. It's me, see?" he pleaded desperately.

Kenshin quickly reached out to pat his arm, to show that he understood now and hoping to comfort his friend after having upset him so. "Y-yes. Yes, I s-see you, Sano. I-I'm so s-sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped on you like that. I know you just wanted to get to the others. I just couldn't risk losing you again." He raked his hand through his hair, let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Kenshin bit his lip, wondering what he could say to make it better. Then he remembered something Sano had said a moment ago. Something that, despite the warm feelings it gave him inside, still made him smile with the amusement of it. "Y…y-you will p-protect me, Sano?"

Redness appeared over Sano's nose and cheeks, but he still set his jaw and nodded in all seriousness. "You're damned right I will. I don't know what all they did to you—but they won't be doing it again. To you, to anyone. Ever."

And Kenshin believed him. He believed this more than he had ever believed anything Sano had ever said, but still, it was just…funny. So he kept grinning until Sano grinned back.

"Oh, shut up, Kenshin!” Still grinning, he stood and held out his hand to help Kenshin stand.

On his feet again, Kenshin glanced at Aijo and Daisuke. Daisuke looked a bit blank, but Aijo's eyes were twinkling. "Well, aren't you two cute? Just like brothers."

Kenshin smiled, and Sano, embarrassed, rubbed the back of his head.

Kenshin looked at the ground again. It was behaving itself now, but that didn't mean the danger had passed. He swung his eyes to Sano and, before he could think about the words he needed before he said them, blurted, "I need Kaoru."

Sano blinked at him, and Kenshin blinked back. He'd meant to say, "I need to see Kaoru." He thought it strange how accidentally missing one or two words could make a sentence so different. But as he thought on it, he supposed that one statement was just as truthful as the other. He still fidgeted a little under the small, slow smile that spread slightly over Sano's face.

"I know." Sano glanced back down the tunnel, biting the corner of his mouth. "Damn it," he muttered. "What the hell is out there? We need to find the other end of the string…"

><><><><><><><><><><

They took it maddeningly slow. Sanosuke had consigned Kenshin to Aijo, thrusting the rurouni's good hand into the old woman's. "Just keep an eye on him," he said firmly, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I can't go through that again."

He really couldn't. For one instant, Kenshin had seemed very much himself, from the flash in his eyes to the way he gripped that stick to the way he was suddenly running through the tunnel. Sano had almost not been able to catch him, but when he had, the reaction had been terrible.

Nothing Kenshin said made sense, but he did keep saying one word over and over. "Don't!"

It was the way he said it, the wan, haunting tone of defeat without hope for mercy that unsettled Sano so, that had him clinging to his friend tightly and desperately asking him to come back to the present.

Anger, a saving grace, soothing with familiarity, was slower to come than normal, but it did as he moved along carefully, sure Kenshin was being looked after by the old couple. He held the torch low and began to anxiously search for the string. At one point, the idea came to him to ask the oldsters if they knew where the rainbow room was, but they were only familiar with the passageways around their home.

He had to find that string. He couldn't find his way back without it.

Then the drums began again. Sano grabbed at the old man, pushed him and Aijo and Kenshin against the wall as the violent pounding and shaking began again.

_Damndamndamndamn_ —

Chunks of rock were loosed from the shadows of the ceiling. They were in a bad place. He swallowed hard, thinking of the others. He worried about cave-ins that could separate them. He was near-desperate to get Kenshin to Kaoru, but more than that, he needed to get to them himself. Needed to be sure they weren't fighting whatever was making that terrible pounding sound, weren't needing his help. The pounding was regular, like a fast heartbeat. It was disconcerting, unnerving, and that might have been the point.

He felt like the walls of the tunnel were moving in on him and tried to shove the thoughts away. He thought that he might close his eyes for a moment to steady himself, but if he had he might have missed it when Kenshin shoved off the wall and "attacked" a chunk of falling rubble coming toward them.

"Hohh _hhh_!" he shouted hoarsely as he leapt upward, the stick held horizontal above his head, as he batted the rock-chunk aside, using the back of his injured hand against the stick for more power.

He landed badly, though, and would have fallen had Sano not shot forward and grabbed him about the waist, pulling him back. "Well, it figures you wouldn't have forgotten how to do _that_ ," he said, extraordinarily happy until Kenshin made a soft, pained noise. He probably reinjured his hand with that stunt. Sano swore viciously, and pulling Kenshin tightly against himself, he held him still while he kept a careful watch on the ceiling, determined to deal with any debris falling toward them himself next time.

Nothing more came too close to them, and then the drums finally stopped.

Sano waited only a moment after the silence to make certain all was still before he grasped Kenshin's shoulders and turned him around to check on him. His face was all right, only a few pain-tears in his eyes. But he didn't look distressed. The bandage, though, was crimson with blood. "You okay, Kenshin?"

Kenshin nodded, then closed his eyes and smiled, cocking his head to one side. The expression was so normal that Sano was grinning as he unwound the blood-soaked wrappings. A day ago, he'd have given anything to see that silly rurouni smile that was given to him so freely now. And Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu was still with Kenshin.

Nothing could make Kenshin forget how to fight.

Yes, things would be all right. If he could just get to Kaoru and the others, and get the hell out of this labyrinth and back into the fresh air, everything would be fine.

><><><><><><><><><><

It had been raining over the islands, and looked it might rain more. Clouds were fat and threatening in the sky. There was a bone-deep chill in the air. But still, it smelled sweet, though not as sweet as his mountain would have.

To keep himself sane, Hiko was entertaining himself with fond, pleasant, positive thoughts. The cheerful images drowned out the Vixen's tongue and cheered him up mightily. First they had been fairly mundane, just memories of him knocking Kenshin around in training. Then they got more elaborate. His favorite fantasy so far was of a nice wooden pole driven right into a large, sandy hill of angry red ants. Kenshin would be tied to it, of course. Just as Hiko was imagining it might be good incentive for those ants to pour honey over his apprentice, the Vixen grabbed his arm and pointed at a produce stand.

He felt a vein throb in his head as he followed the line of one of her long-nailed fingers, but then his irritation evaporated as he spied the posting nailed onto one of the supports of the stand.

It was Kenshin.

He ignored what she said next, hurrying over to the support to make certain. Not that it would be easy to make a mistake.

It was him all right. Talented hands had taken care with every detail. Hands that had known of the situation, if Hiko was one to judge. Kenshin stood in a relaxed stance, face peaceful, but his eyes were wide and seemed…lost. His sword was missing from his side. A heartfelt message was scrawled in the margins by hands less capable than the ones that had done the drawing. But the words more than made up for the form, pleading for any information and leaving the name of the local inn where messages could be taken.

"Must have been done by Tsunan," Megumi murmured when she reached his side.  
Hiko didn't know, or care, who Tsunan was, but at least this confirmed that Kenshin's friends had indeed been this way.

The paper of the notice wasn't old, either. It looked to have been dampened by rain a few times, but it wasn't weathered. So where the hell were they now? They weren't still at that miserably crowded inn, he knew, because he had not only already asked after them, but he had spent a restless night there at the damned Vixen’s insistence. Hiko still wasn't sure how she had even managed to get herself invited along.

He'd just wanted information. That's all. Okina didn't have much more to offer than the letter had stated, precisely because the letter was the only way he had any information at all—but it had been worth a check. It hadn't been worth the slight twinkle in the old man's eye, though, whatever that was supposed to mean. It irritated him.

As did the woman when he traveled all the way to Tokyo. He wished he hadn't had to now, but it had been important. Izu Archipelago, fine, but which island of it? Then she'd latched herself onto the opportunity to go looking for Kenshin, and he had to wonder exactly why she hadn't gone with the others in the first place instead of slowing him down now?

Why, why, _why_ had he brought her along? For one thing, she wouldn't take no for an answer. For another, he didn't like that look in her eye the first couple of times he'd tried to get her to stay put. That look an especially hot-blooded woman would get when she was about to express her wrath by way of scratching and clawing. Maybe there was also a measure of sympathy. It was hard to miss the haggard appearance of one who obviously didn't sleep well at night, the pinched eyes and mouth of someone who had gone overlong worrying.

Or perhaps it was even because Hiko clearly remembered, in Kyoto, she had come to look after Kenshin's injuries. The boy had been hurt quite badly, but she had fought his death at every turn with more tenacity, determination, grit, and stubbornness than any other doctor in the world would have been able to manage. If Kenshin was sick or injured or starved or tortured, she was definitely one to bring along, if he absolutely had to bring anyone at all.

And he had just spend the last couple of weeks regretting it.

She didn't exactly chatter a lot, but when she did, it was in a thin-patience, no-nonsense way. And she asked too many questions. He wondered, yet again, why she wasn't with the others looking for Kenshin, but he had minded his own business in the matter. So why couldn't she do the same? Why did she want to know so badly why he had troubled himself to leave the mountain to go looking for his missing apprentice?

He had seemed to refuse to answer, but even if he was inclined to tell her anything, he didn't really have a reason to give. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted Kenshin to ask him a question?

That was just…silly.

Kenshin would pay for this. Oh, yes. Once Hiko had made certain he was all right, he was going to kill him. Ants. Yes, lots of red-hot-angry, well-stirred up ants. He had to remember to buy or find some honey when this was over.


	18. A Simple Pattern

Aoshi stood in the front, but only because the others had for some reason drifted behind him.

He suddenly, almost, felt like laughing. None of this could possibly be real. At first, his belief in that—that it wasn't real—kept away any fear or revulsion that he might have felt as the first few of them poured into their cavern.

They had the heads of bovine. Tongues lolling, eyes rolling and wild and shiny. Huge people, some easily the size and girth of Hyottoko. They had drums. Lots of them, most of the smaller ones carrying the heavy-hide instruments strapped around their waists. The bigger ones carried hammers of cracked stone. Every few drum beats, in the same sync as galley-rowers, they whirled out and slammed those huge mallets into the walls of the tunnel.

Beautifully orchestrated. Well-disciplined. Absolutely could not be real.

But Misao was real. She latched onto his arm, talking. The noise kept her words from him. If there weren't people with bull-heads pouring into the room, it was something that unsettled her, that caused the sweat to run down her face, that made her eyes wide and wild and round.

He tried to force his mind into coolness, tried to take stock of the situation. Unknown number of enemy. One ally missing. Two if Kenshin was to be counted. The Other Girl and the boy—for heaven’s sake, what were their names?—had drifted to his left side and back as the minotaurs began to surround them. Other Girl was weaponless and would have to be protected.

The boy's voice was high-pitched as he shouted something to the Other Girl. Sanosuke was mentioned several times. They were afraid. Three dozen were in the cavern already. More coming. The ones who had beaten the wall before held their hammers before them, and still from somewhere far back, the labyrinth still shook from the force of others.

Aoshi tightened his hands on his kodachi. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again quickly. It was still there, just as he saw it. Was it real?

><><><><><><><><><><

  
Oaka was covered in dirt and his hands were slick with sweat as he stood by the opened lid of Tan's grave. The Shortsifter wasn't on him. He dug through his former master's clothing, tore apart the feathery wings that some sentimental fool had buried along with him, but there was no sign of it. Not one crystal or bit of glass, not one strand or string. It was gone.

BH

Hold it at the top. Never look directly at it. Pin your fingers over the top two strings, skip the third, and hold the forth…

Aoshi's stomach clenched, and cold sweat ran down his back. Misao and the boy were distracting him, shouting at each other in their high voices. Misao was fairly bristling with kunai as the creatures continued to fill the room. He couldn't see what that other girl was doing, but could feel her nearby, had a strong feeling the boy would never let her out of his sight anyway.

Hold the top. Never look directly at it.

Aoshi closed his eyes, blocked out the terrible sounds and smells of the insane forms before him.

Hold the top…

The top… Aoshi reached into his coat, felt the hardness of rocks nestled within. His fingers slid in further, seeking a clump of strings grouped together. That would be the top.

Never look directly at it.

He had learned his lesson well the first time. He tugged, and it all came tumbling out in cascade of chimes. The sunlight was gone, didn't shatter through the crystals, but the torchlight was still burning nearby.

Pin your fingers over the top two strings…

The strings at the top of the Shortsifter were knotted together in zig-zagging patterns. Aoshi pressed hard on the top two.

…skip the third, and hold the forth. This is one of the simplest Patterns, the Pattern that brings Stillness through sight.

Aoshi third finger brushed over the third string, then pinned down the forth. Pattern completed, he swung the Shortsifter up, the crystals singing, torchlight bouncing off, his eyes on the ground…

…and everything went still.

There were noises in the back, of the ones who couldn't see the Shortsifter and its Pattern, but they couldn't get in for the bodies blocking the way. Aoshi bit down on his tongue as his eyes scanned around the cow-headed people, still as figures carved of stone. He glanced back at his comrades and saw that only Kaoru—he finally remembered her name—was able to move, staring at him, a fist pressed against her mouth and a mix of many emotions in her eyes. She had been standing behind him, hadn't been in a position to see the Shortsifter. But the boy and Misao were as still as the monsters.

Aoshi ground his molars together.

Now what?

><><><><><><><><><><

Oaka barreled dangerously through the little village pathways. He was in a panic. With no Shortsifter to take back to Hikaru, there was no way of driving the monster tribe back into its designated tunnel ways where they'd been sealed for generations. There simply wasn't the manpower to do it by force.

Who had stolen the it? The island was small. If he asked questions forcefully enough, people would talk. Maybe it would even turn up in a vendor's stall? He hoped it wasn't given to a child as a toy or someone wouldn't figure out some of the things it could do. Without knowledge of how to form Patterns, the thing was pretty useless, but…accidents could always happen.

He stopped just short of a small inn, blinkingly rapidly as he came face to face with an ink painting of none other than the very man who had made this mess: Himura Battousai.

So Battousai’s friends had put up flyers while they were looking for him. Oaka stared at the image for a few seconds before snarling angrily and ripping the poster down. He tore it into ragged halves, and then fourths before throwing the pieces down and grounding them under his sandals. Damn him. If no other good came of all this, then at least he could imagine the bull people would take care of him. Maybe take care of Hikaru too, tear the Mindsifter from its ropes and hooks in the stone ceiling, collapse the tunnels, and the endless nightmare would be no more.

Feeling only vaguely satisfied, Oaka turned around and nearly ran into a man as broad as himself, and nearly half a head taller. Blinking in surprise, he took a step back, unnerved a little by the elaborate cloak draped about the man and even more by the narrowed eyes and the piercing glare that moved over the healing bruises still on Oaka's face.

"I don't think," the man said in measured tones, "that I would be mistaken if I guessed you've met my stupid apprentice." His eyes moved from Oaka's face to the destroyed flyer on the ground, then back again. "And recently, too, I should think. I wonder if you might tell me where you saw him."

><><><><><><><><><><

"Come on, Kenshin."

"Nkk…Sano-"

"No, don't point at it. I want you to say it to me. _Ask_ me for it."

"U-um-"

"No, Kenshin, don't say 'um,' and don't stutter. Say it right. I know you can do it."

"Mn…"

"Kenshin, listen to me. Don't get upset, okay? I'm not mad at you, and I'm not doing this to be mean. I just… You understand that, right? Kenshin?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"…yes…"

"Kenshin, what did you just say yes to?"

"…Yes, I u-understand."

"Understand what?"

"You're n-not mean, Sano."

"…no. No, I am mean, I-I'm just not doing this to be mean."

"Mmn…"

"Yeah…you know what, that was good. That was good. It's okay, you can have your stick back. Sorry, I…I shouldn't have… Never mind. Here you go. … …Kenshin? Don't you want it?"

"S-sano. Sano. M-may I…may I…hh…have it…back? Sano, m-may I- Sano, may I have it b-back? _Sano, may I have it back_?"

"Kenshin—"

"I'm s-sorry, Sano. I…I try—"

"No! No, Kenshin, that was great. That was just great. You did really good. Okay? It'll get better. You're doing better all the time. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want your stick back now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go."

 


	19. Can't Stop Me

 

Aoshi and Kaoru were able to make a path through the bull-people by pushing, pulling, or dragging some of the smallest ones out of the way, but it was slow and tiring work that was looking futile until they found an off-tunnel not blocked off by bodies. There was no way to tell where it could lead, but they didn't have many choices.

Kaoru, swallowing ripples of fear and revulsion, had examined one of the shorter men and thus found that the bull-heads were actually masks. Touching the mask itself made her skin crawl, because the bristles of fur beneath her fingers was also met by the sickening give of flesh. It was real. It had really been taken off the head of a bull. Down here, how and from where, she didn't know, and the thought was driven out of her mind before it could be truly explored by the fright that lay beneath the mask.

She didn't know if they all looked like this man, with his head so scourged that only a few clumps of hair grew in the few untouched spots, and one eye that looked to have been clawed out of his face, but she didn't want to find out. She had dropped the mask by his side and left him as he was. She didn't look beneath any other masks. It was enough to know that minotaurs didn't really exist.

A way out cleared among the false mythical monsters, Aoshi carried Misao through, hefting her with one hand over his shoulder gripping the back of her uniform, so that she dangled behind him with her back against his. Kaoru dragged Yahiko along similarly, only holding him by his wrists over her shoulders. She didn't like the way his body felt, his muscles tense, stiff, rigid, not relaxed or limp like an unconscious person would be.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she said to Aoshi. She wasn't certain if it she should be angry or not. She was too tired for that anyway, but she still wanted to know why. Why keep it a secret that that boy, that Penna Tan, had given him the fearsome device and had shown him a few tricks?

Aoshi was silent for a long moment, the both of them carrying their burdens through the low darkness, lit up ahead by the torch Aoshi held in his free hand. After several flat, muted footsteps, Aoshi answered, biting off each word. "I forgot it."

"You forgot?" Kaoru echoed incredulously, nearly dropping Yahiko.

But now, as she thought about it…back at the dojo. "You're Misao, right?" he'd asked, and blamed his confusion on the darkness. How strangely he'd begun to act when they had gotten to Izu, how he stood on the beach, spacing out. He had been tracking Penna Tan from the dock in Tokyo. And it was Tan who had used the—

Then it hit her. Oh. No.

"Aoshi, why didn't you tell us?" she shouted.

His steps faltered a little, but he took up the same brisk pace, reticence even radiating from Misao hanging against his back, but Kaoru wasn't having any of it.

"Aoshi—"

He turned around so suddenly she nearly ran into him. He stared at her a moment with his eyes hard before he said softly, "We—all of us—already had enough to concern us, did we not, Ka…miya-san?" He turned away again, moving forward and showing no sign of strain with Misao's added weight. "As we do now. The Penna Pattern will wear off, freeing not only Misao and the boy, but also the legion of animal-men we just left behind, but I know not when, and we've lost our lead to Sagara so that now both he and Battousai need to be found. And we don't know of the way out. That is enough for now."

Enough, he said. Sounding as if he still had things under control. Kaoru wasn't entirely certain if he was trying to assure her or telling her to shut up, but maybe he was right that the matter should be left alone for now. Yahiko had suddenly become very heavy to her, her arms, her own body, as the burdens of knowing and not knowing began to collide. The two people she had been depending on the most, Sanosuke, lost somewhere in the dark, Aoshi, wounded to an extent he was refusing to reveal by these mind-attacking instruments she didn't understand. And Kaoru wanted Kenshin, wanted him so suddenly and so badly her knees grew week, her gait unsteady.

But she hardened herself again, bringing her shoulders up. They had overcome a lot. They would overcome this.

_Right…Kenshin?_

><><><><><><><><><

"He's getting tired."

The information was murmured as Daisuke passed by Sanosuke, the old man trying to seem nonchalant. An attempt to humor the new stubbornness Kenshin had developed.  
He forgot to be stubborn from time to time, drowsing in and out as the group tried to make their way along in the ever-enclosing darkness. Daisuke's torch was sputtering badly now, soon to become useless, and Sano had been keeping an eye out for some of the caverns that had metal sconces with fresh torches, or at least some not as used up as the one they had.

He looked back at Kenshin, saw that he was indeed getting very tired. Aijo still had him by the hand, gently tugging him along when his steps faltered, or he seemed to forget they were trying to get to somewhere. He'd started refusing to be carried, and the shame and frustration was so stark on his face when anyone tried to get him to change his mind that Sano was nearly convinced to stop trying. But they couldn't afford to stop every time Kenshin needed to rest; it was simply too often and they were running out of light. If they lost the light, there was no hope of finding the string…

He hesitated, unsure of what to do until Kenshin suddenly went down on one knee, long stick making a loud, hollow sound as it scraped beside him on the stone floor. That was it.

Sanosuke scooped him up quickly before the protests could start, hitching him up to ride piggyback again. Kenshin didn't say anything, just made one soft, hiccupping noise that stabbed into Sano's heart.

"Sorry…sorry," Sano whispered, ignoring sympathetic glances from the old couple. They made him angry, those looks. Those eyes. Damn it. Damn them, damn this labyrinth, everything in it, damn the whole island. "I'll make it up to you, Kenshin. When you get better, you can…you can carry me around for a while," he joked weakly.

Kenshin laughed anyway, a short little noise that didn't carry past Sano's own hearing, but the sound was uplifting nonetheless.

With Kenshin riding, Sanosuke picked up the pace, trying to outrun the death of their light.

It was hard to judge time here, but he guessed another hour passed. The ground didn't shake, there were no more drums. There were choices to make of which way to go, but they hadn't encountered any other people so far. Not that Sano was certain of the wisdom of asking directions, but he was willing to try anything by now.

He still looked, but he had stopped believing they would find that string.

He also didn't believe he would remember the way back. All the tunnels looked alike, and it was dark besides, soon to be a whole lot darker when the fire finally went out. He felt the fool for it, but right now, his only idea was kind of wandering around hoping he might get lucky.

He didn’t have any better ideas.

"Maybe we should go back home and rest," Aijo suggested quietly, eyes on Kenshin, drooping on Sano's back.

Sanosuke, not for the first time, resisted the urge to snap at her. He wanted to go home, all right. To Tokyo. "We can't backtrack," he said. "We have to go on. I'm worried about the others."

She hesitated, as if perhaps fearing his temper if she said the wrong thing, then said, "Is it really so important to take Kenshin-chan to Kaoru-san?"

She had addressed the thought behind Sano's words rather than what he had actually said. Of course, he was worried about everyone, but Kaoru had to be all right. She had to. Because if she wasn't all right, then Kenshin would never be.

"You don't know what they're like," he said, deliberately vague in case Kenshin was still awake enough to hear. "Everything they've ever been through, they've always held on for—and because of—each other. They're so tangled up together, so…if we lose one, we'll lose the other. We can't go back. We have to go forward."

He began to walk even faster, setting the pace at maybe more than the old couple could handle, but his thoughts had filled him with urgency. He was still strong. He would carry them all if he had to.

><><><><><><><><><

"Put me down."

The rusty croak came from Yahiko, arms twisting jerkily in Kaoru's hands. She let him go and steadied him as he got his feet under him.

He looked angry, the expression on his face almost of one who had been violated. Kaoru, who had not forgotten what it felt like when she was frozen back at the dojo, knew exactly how he felt.

A few minutes later, Misao stirred too. They were a good march from the Mindsifter, but not far enough from the minotaurs to make anyone relax. Misao and Yahiko had been able to hear the things said between Aoshi and Kaoru. There was a long silence during which they kept moving in case they would be followed by the mad, scarred bull-men down the tunnel, but it was a loaded silence.

The words weren't spoken, but they floated around Misao. A question of being forgotten. There were things more frightening, more devastating, more absolute than death, and that was one of them. To be forgotten, especially by someone she, in turn, had refused to forget as years had passed, as she had grown up wondering where he went and where he was now.

It wasn't Aoshi's fault any more than it was Kenshin's fault for any of this, and yet Aoshi walked a little ahead of Misao, strain on his features.

Are you all right?

Another question that couldn't be asked, and somehow the sight of his back turned to Misao's face reminded Kaoru a little of the way she had watched Kenshin walk away from Hiko's hut in Kyoto to fetch water. She was waiting for him to turn around and smile. He didn't. But he faced her later. He smiled later. He would still… And so would—

_BOOM! DOOM! Damndamndamndamn-!_

Those beating drums. Drums, and hammers held in the fists of the false minotaurs, crashing against the walls and floors. Optimism extinguished, Kaoru clenched her teeth over a sob of dismay, pressing back with her friends. She wished she still had a bokken with her. Anything more than just her two hands.

"Let's go," Aoshi said, voice raised over the horrible din. "Let's hurry."

He sounded so calm, and Kaoru took comfort from it. Whatever might be wrong with him, it couldn't be so bad. They could still count on his strength, right?

They ran for a while, paced and deliberate, meant to conserve strength while increasing distance. Tunnels were too narrow, and there was the fear of taking a wrong turn and becoming trapped. And even Aoshi couldn't fight forever against an entire army.

Then all there was left to do for now was run and pray…run and pray…

The ceiling began to come down.

How she knew it was happening before it actually did, she would never be able to say. Only that it her hands reaching out to twist in the fabric of Yahiko's gi, a fist gripping Misao's flipping braid, and her panicked shout that stopped Aoshi that kept them from being crushed under the first falling rocks.

" _NO!_ " Yahiko denied, his cry one of fury instead of fear. _"DAMN IT! NO!"_

No, Kaoru agreed. It's not fair. Please. He needs me. Please.

The constant pounding on the walls…the tunnels here were weak. There hadn't exactly been much time to explore, to examine, but it seemed a small island, much of it submerged in the sea. The walls must have been thinner than they seemed, to create a full-scale warren like the one in the Greek legend. They could collapse whole sections, anyone within could die, the exits could be sealed. She realized it. Yahiko already knew it.

Couldn't go forward, couldn't go back. No left, no right. _No…_

><><><><><><><><><

If a little dirt and flecks of rock fell into Hikaru's hair and dusted his shoulders, he didn't seem to notice or care. He sat still in his chair.

Oaka wasn't back yet.

Of course Hikaru had considered that they might not find the Shortsifter. Considered it, but had stopped caring so much whether he got it back or not. The labyrinth had to have a minotaur. This labyrinth had many, and they bred and thrived, sealed off in the dark and carefully watched. Their society was violent, without language other than body and emotion. The Mindsifter's most wretched and terrifying work laid out in their minds, passed on to their children. Hikaru himself had added to their numbers from the outside, Grecians only, of course, thinking it a good joke.

He wished now he hadn't cultivated them quite so well, but it was ceasing to matter. At best, maybe they could do what Himura Battousai refused to do. At worst, Hikaru would get blocked off in his cavern and die of thirst.

He closed his eyes. Himura Kenshin would still never see the sun. Punishment complete. Revenge taken. Death or salvation on its way. The nightmare purged at last.

Hikaru looked forward to it.

><><><><><><><><><

It hurt, her whole body points and stabs of pain, white stars dancing before her eyes. She had seen Aoshi throw himself over Misao, sheltering her as the ceiling fell violently around them. Kaoru and Yahiko had jumped for each other as well, each intent on protecting the other. But Yahiko had been slightly faster, slightly stronger, slightly more desperate, reaching her first, twisting his teacher beneath him, forcing her under his protection.

Kenshin!

Rocks still hit her. Weight still crushed her. What was Yahiko feeling, sheltering her with his smaller body? Kaoru passed beyond the point of hysterics. To the Why of her suffering. Her soul cried it out again.

Kenshin!

It wasn't enough. She forced her elbows under her. Her mouth was pressed against a rock, more, smaller ones, dashed against her, were hitting Yahiko, rapidly covering them. Skinning her face on broken stone she screamed it out with all the power of her lungs.

"KENSHIN!"

><><><><><><><><><

That beating and shaking again. Sano had hoped before that it was gone, but, not having any better ideas, he began to follow the flow of vibrations, heading toward what was probably danger. Into danger with two frightened elderly people and one wounded swordsman, and hoped with his whole heart it wasn't a mistake.

Kenshin tensed on his back, gasped once. "Kaoru…!" he moaned, obviously either not awake or he had drifted out again. Sano tightened his grip on his knees to keep him from falling off.

Sanosuke might have shrugged this off, but his skin prickled. A memory, something that happened not so very long ago. Of another place that was under the earth, but this one furnished comfortably, like a mansion, a fortress. There had been a target to chase then, a man shrouded in bandages. Kenshin had stopped running suddenly, half-turned to look back the way they had come down the long corridor.

"Kaoru-dono's voice just now," he'd said.

And of course, both Sano and Shishio's woman had checked him for fever. But later… Sano wondered.

His decision to follow the beat was cemented. Kenshin was exhausted, and after another quiet moan, he subsided into silence again. Even the shaking and the noise didn't bring him to full awareness. Aijo and Daisuke followed because there was nowhere else for them to go now. Sano wished he could break into a run, but couldn't risk leaving either of them behind. They deserved better than that for looking after Kenshin all his time.

But he was scared now, filled with premonitions he wished he didn't have.

Jou-chan-Kaoru-be all right. Be all right. We're coming. Just-hang on. He needs you!

><><><><><><><><><

Nothing was broken.

The cacophony hadn't completely ceased, but there were small pauses now. What they meant, Kaoru didn't know. She was busy.

She hurt almost unbearably as she clawed at the rubble atop her and Yahiko. He was still, very still. Limp and malleable above her, so unlike when he had been subdued by the Shortsifter.

"Yahiko!" She coughed as she breathed in dirt, but called his name again. No answer. Hoping there was nothing broken inside him either, she went back to clawing, shoving, pushing.

She was able to get her knees under her, protecting Yahiko's head as best she could. She shifted enough to stand, pulling him with her with a burst of strength fed by desperation. She broke through their grave of debris, and she blinked through the tears trying to wash grit out of her eyes at a few flickering torches, of shifting bodies making their way carefully toward her.

Cow's head, lolling, fleshy tongues…

She eased Yahiko down, still partly buried in fallen rocks, crawled on a larger rock to crouch unsteadily there. She reached out to seize the shinai on her student's back.

She was crying, tears running down her face. Angry, angry tears. If they'd made her lose someone else…!

She held the shinai out before her. There were a few that she could see, a line of them that vanished into the shadows. They saw her. Warm wetness that was not tears ran down the side of her face.

"You can't stop me," she said. A breathy whisper that still carried in the uncertain silence. A whisper, but a promise, a vow. "You can't. No one can. He needs me! If I lose my life, I'll continue to fight with my spirit. But I will go to him. You can't stop me." The point of her weapon was at level with the face of the closest minotaur. " _You can't stop me."_


	20. Found and Lost

Hikaru let out a low stream of curses. His water supply was low.

It was usually Tan who kept this area well-stocked and changed the water sacks and jugs, but of course Tan hadn't thought to restock before he died. There was plenty of food, for one person anyway, but not a lot of water left.

Hikaru smiled to himself at the irony. Even if he was leaving the door wide open to welcome death, he was still a little picky about just how. Dying of thirst was among the least pleasant ways to die. He'd seen it happen often enough in his own domain to know that. Some poor souls just got lost and couldn't find their way back to a water source in time.

Tan had believed that death should happen swiftly. Yet very few deaths in the labyrinth were. It was no wonder that Tan couldn't sleep. It was difficult to allow yourself to rest when every day of your life you did something you couldn't live with.

He gave up sorting through empty water sacks and leaned back in his wheelchair to ease a cramp in the weak muscles of his back. He sighed, staring down the tunnel that led to several points of nowhere. It didn't look like Oaka was going to come back. At least, not any time soon. Yes, he was probably having difficulty finding the Shortsifter, and there was no point in returning without it, even if it was to care for his lord.

Hoshi hadn't made her way here either, but if she was still alive, she would. Eventually. It was sifted into them all to return to their service to the Penna cousins.

Absently, he lifted one of his pistols and licked the tip. Rested the barrel against his teeth and practiced trying to pull the trigger. His mind rejected each attempt by freezing the muscles in his fingers until his whole hand was a knotted mass of pain. He gave up and massaged his hand, shrugging to himself. There was fruit in boxes in the far corner. He'd eat that first, save his water. Try to wait for a better end.

He wondered how Himura Kenshin and the ones from his dojo were doing now.

* * *

 

"One of you come get Kenshin!"

_Come get me? What? Why?_

"Sagara-san, are you sure— "

"Can't you hear that? I think there's a fight— I've got to go. My friend might— "

_Sano? Sano, where are you going?_

"Keep Kenshin here, don't let him out of your sight. I'll be right back."

_What's going on? Why can't I see?_

_**The light went out.** _

"Kenshin, it's okay. Just stay here with Aijo-san and Daisuke-san. I'll be right back— "

_No! Sano, where are you— !_

"No, Kenshin-chan, sit down. It's okay, he's not leaving you— he'll be back in a little while— "

_**Calm down, you idiot!** _

_I can't! He'll get lost!_

* * *

 

Just as Aijo and Daisuke were thinking they might have to sit on the struggling young man to keep him from running after his friend, he suddenly went limp and burst out laughing.

The old couple exchanged glances before they eased off him, watching him roll over to one side in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "H-he'll get lost!" he said, and then laughed again, as if his words were more to remind himself of his joke than to explain.

But then, the laughter was gone, and he repeated it again. "He'll get l-lost. No. No, Sano! Come back! You'll get lost!"

* * *

 

Sanosuke sprinted in the dark, with his hands before him so that he wouldn't run face-first into stone. He was coming to hate the dark. A lot. The way it tried to swallow him up, the way it felt like he had been fighting against it since that headfirst plunge into the bowels of the island.

He heard Kenshin calling after him, but he didn't have the time to stay to reassure him. He stopped running and held his breath. He'd heard it! The sounds of battle. Where was it?

You'll get lost.

"Damn it, Kenshin," he growled, straining his ears. The walls were still, no vibrations. _I won't get lost. It's a straight shot right now. If there're any turns, I'll come back for you. I won't get lost, and I won't lose you. Now shut up and let me hear._

"Come on…come on…" he murmured, feeling his way more slowly along the wall. He knew he had heard shouts…maybe it wasn't his people, but—

A light appeared in front of him so suddenly that it had to have turned a corner. A light, not torchlight, but a real metal lantern that spread light out clean and steady on the tunnel walls.

But there was a great, majestic shadow behind it, one that seemed to billow out like a raptor spreading its wings, even as the figure that cast it stood ramrod straight.

He was stunned into stillness, speechlessness, except for one sound that escaped his mouth, a statement and a question, one in the same. " _You!_ "

* * *

 

Misao had never been so disoriented before. There was the sense— and with it, the natural panic— of being buried alive. There was a warm, shifting body crushed against hers. She found an anchor in the rubble around her and began to struggle in earnest for freedom.

There must have been a moment she blanked out, because when she came to herself again she was _fighting_. Someone swung a crude stave at her, which she caught, reflexes saving her. Caught badly, absorbing too much impact on her wrists, numbing her hands, but the result was still better than stopping the staff with her face. Grasping the rough wood, she twisted their bodies to the side and brought up her foot, aiming for unprotected neck of the bull-man.

He fell back, or down. It was so difficult to fight in such darkness. She was small and they were big and there were a lot of them. She was faster and resorted to a lot of low blows she would have avoided in fairer circumstances. Much fairer circumstances.

There was little time to think. Only react. The simple fact was that most of her enemies were carrying large hammers from which she could not afford to take a hit. What saved her, she was most certain, was that the walls were far too narrow for them to really swing those heavy stone weapons.

A minotaur climbed on the rocks above her, and she shot out with a quick kick, catching the loose rocks beneath his feet. He fell back on the others grouped behind him. A small one— a woman, she realized— swung out at her from the left with another stick, this one with a sharp stone tied on the end of it. Misao caught the middle of it, used their weight to slam the stick down hard on more of the hard stone piled everywhere. The wood cracked loudly as it broke apart, and Misao kicked the minotaur woman with all her force in the abdomen. Their heads were too protected by those horrid masks. There was no guarantee she would stay down.

A big man threw himself at her. With little choice and even less room to dodge, she grasped him by the fleshy parts of his arms and fell purposefully backwards. She cried out through her teeth as jagged stone gouged into her back, but she rolled with the momentum anyway, bringing up her feet into the madman's stomach, sending him flying over her and into the piles of rocks across the tunnel.

She jumped to her feet quickly, exceedingly aware of every part of her that was bruised or cut or bleeding, and caught sight of Kaoru.

It was a good thing the other girl had chosen to stay near the light, a brand of fire that had been dropped on the stone floor, or else Misao may not have known her in the darkness. Kaoru was undertaking as much effort to go nowhere as Misao herself was. Where was Aoshi? She tried to remember what happened to him after she crawled out from under him, but… Was he still buried under the rubble? Where?

The top of her head throbbed. She wished she could sit down and put her head between her knees for a while.

Her head throbbed again. Bad distraction. The fallen torch made light glint on a blade that flashed right before her eyes.

The shock brought her to her senses. She yelped, took a hasty step back and tripped up on the rocks. A arm was behind her then, solid, not ungentle.

Aoshi. The blade was his.

"It's all right, Misao," he said, but as she looked up at him, she didn't believe that it was. He was injured, sporting his own bruises, bumps, and cuts, but this wasn't what worried her. It was in the sluggish way he spoke, the detached way his eyes moved about in the small area of light. It wasn't all right at all.

But he knew her. That was important. She hadn’t been forgotten, not completely.

Another wave of dizziness blotted out the world again, but Aoshi's arm was still firm behind her shoulders. She gripped at his clothing, trying to find balance again.

Pulling all her will together, she stamped away the weakness and moved at Aoshi's side as they shot through the ring of minotaurs circling around Kaoru.

Misao saw they had begun keeping their distance because Kaoru had been using a new tactic: throwing rocks. There were plenty at hand, and every time one of them ventured too close, she reached down, scooped up a stone and threw it with all her might. And she, like Misao, aimed a little underhandedly. But what she was lacking in mercy she made up for in knowledge of the weak points of masculine anatomy.

"Are you all right?" Misao asked when they reached her.

She didn't look any more all right than Aoshi did, just as black and blue and streaked with red. With one exception: where Aoshi's eyes didn't seem to focus properly, Kaoru's were intense, and when she looked directly at Misao, the young okashira was reminded a little of the weak-kneed feeling she had gotten when Kenshin had looked at her during his first battle against Seta Sojiro.

"Yahiko's hurt."

She saw him, just behind Kaoru, still partly buried under fallen rock.

She was about to move to him when three minotaurs charged at once.

Kaoru hurled the stone in her hand where it collided with the forerunner's shoulder with an unpleasant _thwok_. There was a beastlike howl, and he stopped to clutch at the numbed limb.

But the other two ran past him, waving bludgeons. Aoshi stepped forward to meet the first, but even as he did, others took courage and surged forward as well.

Aoshi struck out with kodachi in either hand, stabbing ahead and sideward at the half-seen, converging figures pressing near. Misao was at his side instantly, crushing down her fears. Aoshi could still fight. She could still fight. Kaoru was protecting Yahiko. For now, she could think no further than that.

Another minotaur plunged forward in Misao's sight. She reacted swiftly, launching herself to strike the bull-man full on, using all her weight to jam her elbow slightly under his mask and into his windpipe. He collapsed to the right, and twisted away as another swung low and viciously at her with a crude spear.

Aoshi was on him, laying open his back from nape to kidney, driving him down into the stone.

Misao had no time to say anything to him. Another minotaur, this one weaponless, swung a clumsy fist at her head, throwing himself off balance and leaving no provision for his defense. She seized his arm and swung herself as hard as she could, propelling him into the stone wall.

There were a lot of howls and battle cries, some of them bursting from her own throat. But then, there was a new cry from further down the part of the tunnel that had not collapsed.

" _Orrrrahhhh_!"

"Sanosuke!" Kaoru cried from further behind Misao and Aoshi.

Sano charged into battle with a shout, plowing through the minotaurs in his path in a fury. There was desperation in the way he fought, like he was in a deathly hurry and didn't have time for all of this.

He shoved back another one, just to the left of Kaoru. "Are you all right?" he shouted. He didn't wait for Kaoru's nod, his eyes raking over them, falling last on Yahiko.

The remaining minotaurs were moving back somewhat, as if reluctant now to advance. Perhaps they had finally realized they were dealing with skilled and dangerous fighters that their numbers couldn’t overcome in such close quarters, or worried about more unexpected appearances like Sanosuke’s.

Sano and Kaoru dug Yahiko out of the rubble as Aoshi and Misao stood guard. Sano peeled back one of Yahiko’s eyelids to check his pupils, then checked him for broken bones. Finding none, he scooped him up. "Everybody can walk, right? Hurry, come on. Come _on_."

"Sano, what— "

"I found Kenshin, but— "

"Kenshin!" Kaoru jerked forward, grabbed a fistful of Sano's jacket. "You found him? Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Yes…no…Jou-chan, we can run and talk at the same time, but I've got to get back to him _now_! We can't leave Kenshin with _him_ , not like this!"

Sano was nearly shaking with panic, Misao realized, and he turned, Yahiko held carefully in his arms, and began jogging back the way he had come. Minotaurs be damned.

Misao ran after him first, Kaoru just at her heels.

"Sano!" Kaoru cried. "Who? We can't leave Kenshin with who?"

* * *

 

_**Oh…no…** _

_Huh…what?_

An old sense, rusty with disuse, raged against Kenshin's awareness. It made him a little sick, so he pressed his face into Aijo's shoulder, where he was resting in the old woman's arms, sharing her warmth. It was even colder here than it was at their camp. Because there was no fire, he reasoned.

**_Get up!_ **

_No… Why?_

_**Get UP!** _

_Tired…_

**_Get up! Please!_ **

He opened his eyes. Not because of the conflict within him so much as a smell. Something he hadn't smelled in a while.

Tobacco. Smoke.

Cigarette?

**_Can't you feel it?_ **

Part of him really wanted to get to his feet. Part of him wanted to push his hair out of his eyes and curl his fingers around his stick, see if he could steel himself to meet a powerful stare.

The other part of him grasped onto Aijo as he heard Daisuke's challenge of, "Who are you? What do you want?"

_No…oh, no, no, no, no, no-_

**_Will you face him like this? GET UP!_ **

He got his knees under him, then his feet, pulling away from Aijo even as she tried to discourage his movements, wanting him to stay down.

He straightened up. He couldn't find his stick-realized Daisuke had it, clutching it before him in front of a much calmer man, who ignored him, looking past the old man and to Kenshin. He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, took his time breathing it out in that cold, unmovable way of his.

"So… _here_ you are, Battousai."

The man's name was slow to come. Not the emotions. Not the memory, fuzzy and insubstantial and long ago-seeming as it was. But the name…

… _among the wolves_ …

"S…Saito," Kenshin whispered.


	21. Mercy

　

Kenshin's torn memory couldn't provide him with a similar moment when he had been so dismayed.

Saito spoke, but his words only partly made sense, the rest lost somewhere beyond the pounding of his heart. Saito spoke again, this time with a trace of annoyance. But this time his words made even less sense.

Kenshin tried to find calm, tried to think. Where was Sano? How did Saito get here? Did he want to fight?

Kenshin didn't think he could fight. This was a painful thought that hurt and shamed and angered him all at once, but he really didn't think he could duel Saito now. He didn't even have a sword—

Daisuke turned at the trunk to look at him, but at the same time, Saito stepped forward. Kenshin was not able to handle it as his attention was drawn into two places at once. His thoughts spun out of control, and he took a step back, desperately scrambling for something to say or a course of action.

The lantern Saito held cast light over his face, but left its up-creeping shadows in the slanted lines of his face, drawn together in high annoyance. The effect was…ghastly.

And all thought deserted Kenshin.

* * *

 

" _You left him with Saito_?"

"I didn't leave him with anybody but this old couple! I ran into that squinty-eyed bastard, and he went back the direction I came looking for Kenshin. What did you _want_ me to do?"

"You should have stayed with him!"

"And what, have all of us keep wandering around this God-forsaken labyrinth looking for each other for the rest of our lives?"

"If you've lost him— " Kaoru warned, her voice hoarse.

"I'm not lost!" Sano growled. He held Yahiko as still as he could as they raced through the tunnels, dodging fallen debris. At least, he didn't think he was lost. There had only been one turn, but he had been disconcerted by Saito Hajime's appearance, delayed moments longer than he wanted by trying to convince him to wait or come along instead of heading off down the passage to see Kenshin for himself.

It wasn't so much that Sano didn't feel like fighting anymore. In fact, he almost wanted to see more of those bull-heads to relieve a little more stress. But he didn't want to bring a lot of screaming and yelling and arguing right up to Kenshin, who was sort of…fragile…just now.

He opened his mouth tell Kaoru this, but then there was another voice calling through the air. Sano froze, and Misao crashed into his back.

" _Sano! SANO! SAAAANO!_ "

Misao was the first to find her voice. "Himura!"

Kaoru burst into a sprint, already several strides past Sano before he could move. But then he was beside her, careful to support Yahiko's head close to his body as the tunnel narrowed. "I'm coming!" he shouted, hoping the words would reach Kenshin.

* * *

 

A sea of waving grass, tall enough to brush against his belly. Blood dripping from the tall, wide stalks, and he tried to back away from it, but there was always more.

He almost tripped over a body lying in the grass. He moved away from it, quivering with the resounding knowledge that, though he had no memory of doing so, he had slain the man.

Only in backing away, he tripped over another body and fell, sprawling hard on his back. A soft cry escaped him as he scrambled away, his back coming up against the withered husk of an old dead tree. He had killed this one too…

**_I didn't want to. I didn't want to kill them_**.

_But if I didn't want to, why did I?_

Wind blew in his face. He closed his eyes against it.

_Why did I not forget this?_

**_That would be mercy, wouldn't it? And that which I could never show, was that which I don't receive._ **

_…_

_**It would be wrong. To forget.** _

_…Yes._

There was sunlight all around, but it didn't touch him. It was around him, but he was cut off from it. He hesitated, and then he tried to move out of the shade, longing to stand in the sun again.

A wolf appeared over the rock, standing up smoothly through the grass, fanged grin, teeth glinting at him mockingly.

_Stop hurting me. I can't fight._

He glared back at the beast, and past it, to the man within it. He bared his own teeth, growing angry before he realized it.

**_Not now! I can't fight you! Damn it! Damn you! STOP HURTING ME!_ **

The beast bowed slightly with surprise when he suddenly launched himself at it, knocking it onto its back and falling on top of it. The struggle was strange— it didn't feel like an animal under his hands. In fact, it seemed there were other hands he couldn't quite see grappling back with him, and no teeth went for his flesh.

Another thought jarred his awareness, the wrongness of the situation, and there was a blow to his stomach that took his breath and sent him crashing back into something hard and unyielding. His left arm gave a hard throb, pain beginning at the unhealed break and spreading out through the impaled palm like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He cried out, choosing this moment to remember a colorful curse he'd heard Sanosuke say recently, and cradled the limb to his chest.

He shut his eyes tightly. At some point, when he wasn't looking…no, he still hadn't looked. But he still knew, knew that the wolf had become Saito. And yet was still the wolf. It made sense and it didn't make sense, and he understood and didn't understand at the same time.

The creature breathed harshly, like steel sliding from a sheath. There was an all-too-human shouting, and the scent of tobacco, still very near.

The hand hurt, and it felt warm and wet. He pressed his good hand against it.

There was a burst of movement in front of him so violent that his eyes fluttered open. He cried out in surprise as the cadaver that had been lying in the grass latched onto his wrists.

Caught against the tree, he couldn't move away. The bark felt cold and hard like stone as he twisted to the side.

Someone was talking, yelling, but he couldn't see the speaker and he didn't understand the words. It was suddenly very dark. One blink and there was still the sunshine he remembered, and the next there were deeps shadows at war with weak firelight.

_I…I'll protect you, Kenshin, I swear…I swear…_

_"Sano?" he whispered, still trying to get away from the hands that held him._

_Y…y-you will p-protect me, Sano?_

_You're damn right I will. I don't know what all they did to you— but they won't be doing it again._

_"Sano! SANO! SAAAANO!"_

He nearly sobbed as the left arm made an alarming popping sound brought on by his own jerking. His throat burned. Was he screaming? More talking. Fast talking. He still couldn't understand. The sun was gone; somebody had taken it from him again. Maybe the sun was never real. Maybe just a long, nice dream, like the feel of grass and the scent of summer. Like children's laughter. Like the wide-open roads he had walked alone for years and years.

The weight was off him, very suddenly. Almost as if it had just been waiting for him to go still. Maybe it was, and the thought bothered him, and he didn't understand why.

Then there were other hands on him. Much smaller, softer hands. They were hesitant, gentle, unthreatening. A quivering voice speaking, but he still couldn't hold onto the words. He flinched when light was shone in his eyes, and it was quickly taken away when the nice voice snapped out something harsh.

He was lifted a little, head and shoulders supported on a lap. So familiar, the way the little hands were brushing the air away from his face. Somebody different tried to touch his left hand but he jerked away, pressed a little closer to the one who was being gentle.

The moment he turned toward the gentle one, he was being hugged, rocked, cradled. With arms that shook. Words were spoken, but he still couldn't concentrate.

A soft, warm mouth touched his forehead. Such a good scent. So very familiar.

Familiar…like…

He finally opened his eyes, gazed up blearily at the soft one who comforted him. Kaoru…

Oh, a Kaoru dream. Yes, such nice dreams. He loved to have them. This was his mercy that he had thought was denied him. She always came when he was closest to becoming lost. She always led him back.

He started to close his eyes again and let himself drift, but there was a little stab into his peace. Something was wrong.

Perhaps it was the smell of salt. He blinked slowly up at her face, saw tears there. It wasn't unusual for her to cry when he dreamed of her, but…

There were bruises all over her face. Large ones, small ones. Her bottom lip was split in two places. A little layer of sweat was just under her hairline. A little rivulet of blood was drying on the side of her face.

Very slowly, he reached up and touched her face. It was warm and soft, but there were skinned places, little cuts…a little bleeding… Lots of dirt and smudges.

He frowned in concentration. This was so odd. What did this mean?

She spoke again, but this time slowly, so he was able to follow. She murmured soothingly. Smiled shakily. Tears on her eyelashes.

Kenshin let his forefinger drift to the tiny cuts on her lower lip. The rim drew up a little with pain at his touch, and he realized—

She was _real_!

He was stricken. He was relieved. Distressed. Ecstatic. He wished he was dead. He was so glad he had survived. He was afraid to speak to her. He had so much he wanted to say.

His hand still hovered just at her mouth. Both trembled, his hand and her mouth.

"Pl…ease. Please. D-don't…don't go, don't go," he pleaded longingly, still afraid she may yet turn out not to be real. She spoke again, but he wasn't even trying to listen now. He grabbed her, pulled her close to him with his good arm. _Don't go. Please don't go. Be here when I open my eyes. Don't go, don't go._

Her hands moved up and down his back, stroked his hair. And she didn't fade away, she didn't fade…

* * *

 

"What the hell were you doing to him?"

Sanosuke wasn't quite in Saito's face since, however furious he was, he still knew better than that. Misao, her sad gaze on Kenshin and Kaoru, stood a little behind him, next to Aoshi. The ground near the wall had been hastily cleared to place Yahiko. At least, then, everyone was in one place now.

Saito didn't even look at them, just stared at Kenshin, still being held and rocked by Kaoru. "He just attacked me. Like some kind of a wild animal." He rubbed his jaw, absently. Kenshin must have gotten in a good hit or two. "What has been done to him?"

"What are you doing here?" Sano shot back. "How did you find this place?" But he was toned down from how he had been when they'd first run up on the scene of the oldsters and Saito trying— and failing— to restrain Kenshin, who was kicking, screaming, shouting mindlessly, hurting himself. Maybe he should have stayed after all…

"I asked my question first," Saito said evenly.

It was Aoshi who decided to answer, or maybe he simply didn't want to hear any more needless arguing. He reached into his coat, and Sano heard the musical jingling of the Shortsifter being drawn out.

* * *

 

Misao felt a little like a child who had lost interest in what the "adults" were talking about as she moved away from the three men and sat down by Yahiko. She wasn't listening as Aoshi was explaining what they knew about the Mindsifter. He'd move on to the Penna cousins and the minotaurs as proof of what the terrible thing could do. She didn't care to review it; she'd seen enough already.

She glanced at Kenshin and Kaoru one last time. The redhead looked so frail, all starved and half-naked, messed-up hand oozing blood down his wrist. Sanosuke had already tried to look at it, but Kenshin didn't seem to know anyone but Kaoru at the moment. He had to be cold, shivering as the two of them clung to each other. They had shut everything and everyone out, in a world where only the two of them existed.

She thought about the look on Saito's face when he'd asked, "What has been done to him?" Was that possibly an emotion that didn't involve derision? It didn't pay to look too much into it, since it was nothing she could put a name to, but she wondered exactly what she would call her own emotions if she came to find that her rival, adversary, respected enemy, and sometime-ally was thus, gravely wounded in body, mind, and spirit…

Would it be so different than the way she felt, seeing what had been done to a very dear friend? And for no reason at all…

She checked on Yahiko, relieved to see the boy breathing well. He'd probably wake up soon. She turned away from him and held her throbbing head in her hands, feeling every last ache brought on by the cave-in and deep, deep fatigue. What time was it, anyway? It had been a long, long time since she last slept.

Maybe, just for a little while… Best to rest while she could. They still had to find a way out. She hoped it wasn't far.


	22. Rest for the Weary

 

"Kenshin? It's okay, it's just me."

"Sano?"

"Yeah. I need you to hold still so I can look at your hand, okay?"

"No…"

"Yes. Look at it, Kenshin. See, it's bleeding everywhere again."

"I hurt…my arm."

"I…I know. But I still have to look at it. Will you let me?"

"I was…c-calling you…"

"Yeah…yeah, I heard you. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I ran into these really ugly… Sorry, if I'd known he was going to—"

"Are you all r-right? D-did you get lost?"

"No, no. I didn't get lost. I've been finding my way around here better than at home. Will you let me see your hand?"

"Sano?"

"Yeah?"

"D-do…do you s-see Kaoru-dono?"

"Yeah. She's right there, Kenshin. It's okay."

"Is she all right?"

"Yeah, she's just sleeping because she's tired."

"Is it my fault?"

" _No_ , Kenshin. It's not your fault. It's the fault of that droopy-eyed freak and the bastard in the wheelchair. Now, _please_ let me see your hand?"

"Sano…"

"What?"

"Th-thank you…thank you for c-coming when I called."

* * *

Wonder of wonders, there was a little hot spring not far from the rainbow room that still protected the Mindsifter, almost in the exact opposite direction that Kaoru, Aoshi, Misao and Yahiko had been fleeing the minotaurs.

The madmen themselves had cleared out, fading back into whatever shadows that had birthed them for now. Once in a while, their terrible hammering would shake the rock, but it was sporadic and infrequent now. Even better, it seemed far away.

Since Saito had confirmed it was now empty, the group backtracked again through the rainbow room to make absolutely certain that the way they had come in truly did not have a way back out that wasn't obvious enough to be noticed the first time around. But, no. There had to be a different way out.

The discovery of the hot spring was a happy one, to say the least. Except to Kenshin.

The world had seemed to shrink considerably for him. He recognized Sanosuke, Kaoru and Aijo without a problem, but Daisuke, Misao and Aoshi could only safely approach him if they were careful to announce themselves first. If they didn't, he became extremely defensive-aggressive, even violent. Having Kaoru back had put Kenshin in a permanent and uncontrollable state of protectiveness.

He walked with her support, clutching her to him as they walked. He needed her reassuring touch, but also he seemed to believe that every shadow held something that might hurt them.

Saito was forbidden to go near him at all, somewhat more for Kenshin's safety than for his own. If Saito dared to come too near, Kenshin would begin to hyperventilate, instinctively pressed his body over Kaoru's, mindless danger in his eyes.

This was so worrisome that in the first few hours before they discovered the hot spring, Sano decided it was best if Kenshin didn't carry his stick. This was fairly easy at first, since the rurouni was far too wrapped up in hypervigilance to notice he was missing it. Sano wondered if he shouldn't abandon the thing somewhere, remove the temptation altogether, but some instinct or another rebelled against leaving it behind. If there were more monsters in these stony walls…well, Sanosuke had seen for himself that Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu was still a part of his friend. There might be a time in the future when his skills could be needed, if only to make him less helpless should something happen.

On the other hand, they couldn't have the terribly confused man lashing out at any of them if he was suddenly unable to tell friend from foe, or worse, forget where he was and what he was doing and start trying to duel Saito with it. This wasn't a concern before, but Kenshin had been calmer and more compliant when it was just him, Sano, and the oldsters.

Sanosuke said nothing of this to the others, just taking Daisuke aside to quietly explain the matter, and the old man agreed to carry the stick and hang back in the group with it so Kenshin, walking locked together with Kaoru, wouldn't see it.

It didn't last, though. Kenshin eventually did remember he was carrying a stick before, checking his hands and the empty place at his side for it and finding it gone. He remembered that he used it in place of his sword. He remembered that if he didn't have it, Daisuke usually did.

Sano was carrying Yahiko on his back not unlike the way he had been hauling Kenshin through the tunnels when the redhead suddenly turned around.

He had been looking like he might turn around for several paces before, but kept stopping like he had forgotten or changed his mind. But his eyes passed across the others with a disheartening lack of recognition for most of them, and stopped at Daisuke.

Kenshin saw his stick in the old man's hand and he smiled, happy, childlike and guileless, and maybe a little fuzzily through the veil of pain of his damaged left arm and pulled away from Kaoru only slightly, good hand stretched forward for the slender pole.

Sanosuke stepped between him and Daisuke, miserable with guilt when the smile vanished to be replaced with that awful confused expression again. The others stopped walking to watch, similar expressions on their faces, wondering what was going on.

"You, ah…you should just keep going there with Jou-chan, Kenshin," Sano suggested weakly, hoping to distract him. "You don't need that old stick getting in your way."

He trailed off weakly, feeling ludicrous for suggesting to a swordsman, even a broken one, that he could let his weapon get in the way of anything. Kenshin knew it, judging from the little frown and the pucker between his eyes.

Then the confusion cleared as if the rurouni had just figured something out. In fact, Kenshin fairly beamed as he took in a deep breath and said clearly, "Sano, may I have my stick back?"

Yahiko was suddenly very heavy on the fighter's back, and he felt like there was an even heavier stone that had just been dropped in his stomach. He stared back at Kenshin in horror for a few seconds. He silently cursed himself for not seeing that this might happen, for that stupid game they had played before.

Sano had to swallow several times before he could trust himself to speak. The others were wearing expressions from confused to vaguely upset; such was the face Kaoru wore, looking back from Kenshin to Sano.

Sano saw, with a dull throb of grief in his heart, the smile slide away from Kenshin's face for the second time. Kenshin looked uncertain, then repeated the sentence again, more slowly, as if listening to himself to make certain there weren't any mistakes. Satisfied with his speech, he looked at Sano expectantly.

Sano caved. Crumbled. "Sure, Kenshin," he whispered thinly. "That's very good. Go ahead…and take it…"

He moved out of the way, leaving Daisuke to hand over the stick.

So that idea had gone badly, but at least the redhead hadn't gone crazy with the stick as Sano had feared. In fact, it seemed Sanosuke's worries were for nothing because he seemed a little more stable, a bit more secure, once he had it back, and stopped bristling so much at long shadows and noises in the distance.

Then they stumbled on the spring. Or more accurately, they moved toward it, feeling the moist heat and the sulfurous smell of it. Without any better purpose of direction, they were drawn to it.

It looked like the Penna family had used it a great deal over the years. An artful little wall had been built around it with stone slats, and a ramp-like groove had been carved into a shallow area. Mostly-empty bottles of oil were placed around the edges of the little wall.

It was warm in these chambers. A godsend enough to stop for a while.

Sanosuke had to beg Kenshin to get the rurouni to consider a bath and another bandage change. These efforts combined with Kaoru's gentle, patient pleading, Sano got Kenshin to take a few, limping steps toward the spring.

But as Kenshin lost contact with Kaoru, he also lost his purpose. He whirled back, looking confused and frightened. Impulsively, Sano grabbed him.

It was a bad idea. Kenshin stretched his hands to her. "Don't, don't, don't!" he begged. Of Kaoru or Sano they weren't sure, but Sano let him go instantly, and Kenshin leapt back into Kaoru's arms, latching on again tightly.

Sanosuke ran a hand through his hair, locking eyes with Kaoru. Tears of agony and anger at the general situation had filled her eyes as she smoothed Kenshin's hair and murmured as soothingly as she could while her voice was shaking.

By the time the others took a turn cleaning themselves up in the spring, Kaoru and Sano had worked out a plan for getting Kenshin into the bath. It was going to be difficult. It was even hard to speak of, words stumbling in miserable embarrassment from mortified lips in red faces, eyes always on the ground or on their hands, and sometimes on Kenshin, but never on each other.

Kenshin sat between the two of them on the far side of the room where jutting ridges of rock allowed a screen for bathers. Misao used the bath last, while Aoshi and Saito waiting on the other side of the ridges, standing guard as well as discussing the labyrinth and the Mindsifter in low tones. Sano left Kaoru and Kenshin alone for a short time while he washed and bandaged Yahiko's injuries, and then carried the boy back to the rock ridges near Misao, who was dressed again and talking with the old couple.

Then it was time.

Kaoru's heart was beating fast, but she tried to look nonchalant for Kenshin's sake. Kenshin, she understood, wasn't afraid of the spring itself, only of being separated from her. So, to get him cleaned up, to take the opportunity to wash his wounds and bathe his hand, this was necessary.

They led him out toward the shallow part with the built-in slope. He became a little unsteady when Kaoru let go of him and turned her back, but she remedied this by holding on tightly to his good hand. There was the rustling of clothing being removed. Kenshin made protesting noises at Sanosuke, who made soothing noises back and gave partly-verbal assurances that Kaoru wasn't going anywhere.

She kept his attention by making circles in the palm of his hand with her thumb, but she couldn't say a word.

Her mind was numbed to the point that whatever she was doing now was simply going through the motions. She knew the numbness was a defense against tears, but it was also one of those things she might have to pay for later. Sooner or later the tears, the grief, the fear would all come pouring out—and likely before she was ready.

_What have they done to him?_ The thought was a prayer of sorts, directed at anyone who might care about her, about her rurouni, about anyone else who had had their lives dragged to a violent halt, and had risked the unknown in this place to search for him. And it _was_ dark, so dark it stretched on forever, and Kenshin stammered and stumbled when he tried to talk, and she had to repeat things to him many times before he understood her, and Sano was talking to him like he was a small child, and—

"Jou-chan?"

Sanosuke had been speaking softly like that for a while. It still sounded strange. The tone-downed energy, the mellowness he kept up for Kenshin's sake just wasn't right. Just not _Sano_ , who was all emotion and energy, honest in what he projected and what came out of his mouth.

"Jou-chan, you don't have to do this if you don't want to…" He trailed off, the last couple of words tinged with weariness. He'd said it before. He didn't exactly want to do this, didn't want to put her through it, and Kaoru knew that, like her, he would be hoping Kenshin might not remember this later when he was…better.

He was just so fragile. She remembered his cries, clear and ringing panic, when she'd slipped away from him when he had been napping to take care of her needs. She'd had to race back to where the others were trying to keep him from running off into the darkness to search for her.

At the same time, when she was careful to keep contact with him, and they were still, not moving or walking and he didn't feel he had to be constantly vigilant, he seemed almost normal—if a lot more quiet. Even so, he couldn't tell her what happened.

There had been times, many times, Kenshin _wouldn't_ tell her things. There were whole periods in his life that he was never going to speak of, perhaps for as long as long as he lived. That had always been fine with her. If there were things she didn't know, that was just the way it had to be. Kaoru had them too—sealed up secrets—though none so deep and dark as he kept. He could take on such a haunted look at times when he forgot to guard his eyes.

But this was different. It seemed, when she tried to speak to him, he _wanted_ to tell her this time. Part of it was that he couldn't remember how to phrase certain things. His few words were simple, a lot of vocabulary gone. Or maybe just lost somewhere inside. Aijo had said there was a time when Kenshin could neither speak nor understand words, only gestures and smiles and expressions.

Tears stung at Kaoru's eyes, her thoughts dark. She silently cursed the soul of Penna Tan and wished she had had a chance to turn some of that berserker rage that had so frightened everyone back in the rainbow room on Penna Hikaru. And damn the unknown, faceless shadow that was Penna Taro as well. And while she was at it, she went ahead and cursed every generation back to _Daedalus_ as well!

She took in a deep breath, and began to back up slowly as Sano maneuvered them toward the water. Kenshin's hand tightened on hers, and she squeezed back to reassure him, wondering how hot the water was. It seemed like a long time since she had a hot bath, and it was probably much, much longer for him.

Sano moved fast, his hand moving smoothly between Kenshin's and Kaoru's, breaking their grip quickly.

Kaoru moved quickly too, trusting that Sano would have both himself and Kenshin turned around in time. Her hands were shaking with nerves as she began to undress.

She had her obi undone just as Kenshin began to make those noises. She didn't like those noises, the soft, high sounds he made when he was trying to talk but couldn't remember words he needed to do so. Like little prompts when he hoped that the people with him could supply them for him.

She took in another deep breath as she shed her training gi. She left the wrap around her top as she tossed her clothing over the rock where Sano had put his and what was left of Kenshin's. Her wrap would get wet, but she couldn't quite bring herself to get into the bath with her two male friends stark naked. She also couldn't go in fully clothed. Her clothes would be wet, and while it was wonderfully warm in the cavern with the heat from the spring, it was very cold everywhere else. She would freeze.

It would have been easier if she could have just sat on the edge of the little wall between the oil bottles with her back still turned to them. She could hold his hand, like she was just a few seconds ago, and he'd be assured she was still there while Sano helped him bathe, cleaned his hand, and washed the dust out of his hair. That would have been a little uncomfortable, but more comfortable than this.

The problem was Kaoru wanted— _needed_ —a bath too. She was covered in blood and dirt and sweat, and she very much wanted it off. They had already tried, and failed, to explain to Kenshin that she would need even ten minutes of privacy to do so. And it wasn't that he didn't understand. No, he understood, and it frightened him badly even when he tried to agree. Aijo had helped him to understand; the old woman was very good at explaining concepts so he could grasp them. They were pleading and reassuring him, and he understood and he tried to agree. But he was scared, pale and shaking at the thought of her leaving his sight for even that long.

That had been while Misao was still bathing. Kaoru had met Sano's gaze over Kenshin's bowed head. It wasn't going to be worth it—she'd go without bathing if it caused him such distress.

But, like this… If they swallowed their inhibitions for just a few minutes, they could all get cleaned up and Kenshin wouldn't have to suffer any of the anxiety that crippled him.

She waded into the water, exhaling in both pleasure and pain at the heat of the water. Kenshin turned around at the sounds of her splashing, almost too soon for the smoky water to protect her modesty. Almost, but not quite. She reached out for him as he reached for her, feeling better herself when his good hand was gripping hers again.

Kenshin was completely oblivious to their undressed states and the embarrassment for the situation and, for the moment, so was she, looking into his calmed violet eyes.

It would be all right soon. They had him back. He was safe now. He just needed to get back home, where it was familiar and quiet. He would…get better. Aoshi would get better as well. Hadn't Tan said that this could be overcome?

These might have been blatant lies. Wishful thinking. False hope.

But Kaoru wasn't forcing herself to be optimistic. She didn't have to. This was Kenshin. Kenshin, who had the most astonishing willpower and sense of self of anyone she had ever met, even if that was a little… _absent_ …right now. Kenshin would not _allow_ himself to be like this for the rest of his life.

She was sure of it.

Sano's eyes were carefully averted. He dipped low for a moment, hands under the water, and he came up with two fists full of wet sand from the bottom. There wasn't any soap, so it would have to do.

The way Kenshin started when Sano dumped it in his hair was comical enough that Kaoru smiled. It felt good to smile again, and the smile stayed there, light on her face, for as long as Kenshin's bewildered expression lasted. He didn't understand the point of the bath if his friends were going to smear silt all over him.

Kaoru also bent into the water and brought up sand. She took over Kenshin's hair while Sano quickly used the sand to scrub the rest of Kenshin's skin. She watched Kenshin close his eyes in pleasure as she scrubbed his scalp.

When Sano finished with Kenshin he turned his back to them and ducked under the water for a moment and stayed there, scrubbing at his face and hair. Kaoru washed the sand out of Kenshin's hair and then washed his face with water cupped in her hands, careful of his cuts and bruises.

He looked so much better already, she thought. His hair was bright red again, face clean now, smoothed and for once free of confusion and fear.

She was running her fingers through the long red locks to part some of the tangles when he brought a hand out of the water. Hot water dripping from his index finger, he pressed it gently against her lower lip.

His eyes hardened. And they were clear. Very clear. "Who hurt you?" he demanded.

She was a little taken aback by his sudden charge in articulacy.

"Nobody hurt me, Kenshin," she said, vaguely irritated with herself for how easily she fell into mimicking that same low singsong voice that Sano, Aijo, and Daisuke used when they spoke to Kenshin. She corrected it, forcing her voice to the normal tone she used with him. "Nobody hurt me. We were in a cave-in—rocks fell on us. I just got a little skinned up, that's all."

He searched her face. She felt her eyes widen when he said, mildly, "Please don't lie to this one, Kaoru-dono. You have been in a fight."

Sano had finished tending to himself, and was standing quietly nearby, listening, watching. Afraid to do or say anything in case it broke the moment, in case they "lost" him again.

Kaoru swallowed, not certain what to tell him.

Kenshin didn't wait for an answer, instead pulling her into a one-armed hug. Chin pressed to her hair, he said, "I should have been there. I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. Smiled for the second time in the same hour. Guilty, guilty Kenshin.

His hand patted at her back in a sort of searching gesture that she didn't have time to wonder at before he stiffened against her. " _Kaoru-dono_!"

She lifted her head and he backed away a step, looking down at her in horror…but of a very different kind than she had seen yet. A bright red blush that had nothing to do with the water's heat spread across his face. "Kaoru-dono, you're not— You don't have any—" He looked down, meaning to avert his eyes, but instead drawing his own attention to himself. He had finally realized. His jaw dropped.

And he said, " _Oro_."

Kaoru laughed, soft but long, even as Sano—grinning broadly—slipped behind Kenshin, put an arm behind his shoulders, and started to guide him back into the shallows and out of the hot spring. "Um, come on, Kenshin. Let's get dressed and wrap up your hand. Go ahead with your, um, bath, Jou-chan."

As Kaoru hurried to bathe herself, she heard Sano laughing somewhere out of sight, and she could hear Kenshin saying, "Sano! What were we—? What were we…?!"

* * *

Misao moved closer to Kenshin, making her steps heavier than they needed to be so he would be sure to hear her coming.

He looked much better. Somebody had tied his hair back, and Sanosuke had put the "aku" jacket on him since they were going to sleep outside the lip of the hot spring cavern, out of the steam.

Saito and Aoshi were still talking. There was a time, she thought, when Kenshin would have been talking with them. Or at least listening to them. But he didn't look like he knew they existed, so constant and faded into the background as they were.

He was half-sitting against the wall, leaning a little over on his good side. Kaoru was beside him, holding onto his right hand. The left arm was curled to his chest, bandaged hand half-closed where it rested on his chest. Sano was dozing on the other side of Kaoru, Kenshin's stick between them.

The rurouni was looking down on Yahiko, lying by his left side, his brow bunched up like he was trying to remember who the boy was.

"Himura?" she said, loud enough he could hear, but quiet enough she might not disturb Kaoru or Sanosuke.

Kenshin's eyes swiveled toward her, same expression in place as he studied her features.

Misao knelt in front of him and suddenly realized that she didn't know what she was going to say to him. She knew she had wanted to say something. Maybe just to be nearer to him, now that he looked a little cleaner and the signs of abuse and neglect were covered with a little borrowed clothing, making it easier to look at him.

"…don't you think you should get some sleep?" she said at last. She felt a little silly, and added, "You know…we've got a lot of walking to do tomorrow, and…" She stopped miserably, not knowing if he even understood.

She started when he reached out and patted her head. "M-Misao," he said, smiling. "Misao-dono."

She smiled back at him. Incredibly, this, a simple and familiar gesture of affection and approval she had received from him in the past—it made the tension drain from her. At the same time, wet heat rose up behind her eyes. "Yeah, it's me, Himura. Um…" She hesitated, then went ahead and asked, "What's my last name?"

There was a very long pause as she stayed knelt there, his hand still on her head. His lips parted slightly, then closed. The hand dropped, and the edges of pained confusion began spreading over his face. He did not remember her last name.

Misao instantly regretted the question. "No, it's okay," she said hastily, holding up her hands. "Never mind the last name. I, uh…I don't need one anyway."

He smiled slightly at that, but he still looked a little hurt. Misao bit her lip. "You, um…go to sleep, okay?"

He seemed to consider this for a second, blinking slowly as he stared at her. "You too," he said finally. She liked the firm way he spoke this time.

* * *

Misao was gone. Kenshin couldn't remember her leaving exactly, but he did know she had been there.

He also didn't remember lying down, but he was. It wasn't at all comfortable for his head, but he liked the reassuring feel of Kaoru at his back, and the knowledge that Sanosuke was nearby. Aijo and Daisuke were somewhere near, too, and he could hear their voices whispering to each other from somewhere.

He was facing the spiky-headed boy. He chewed at his lip, then reached forward slowly and placed his hand on the kid's hair. He closed his eyes. "Young one…Yahiko…"

No confirmation from anyone, but he knew he was right. He moved his hand from the boy's head and took his hand instead.

The boy stirred. The light was weak, but Kenshin could still see the color of Yahiko's eyes as the boy opened them partway and focused on his face. A slow smile tugged at the corners of Yahiko's mouth.

" _Found_ you," the boy whispered hoarsely.

Kenshin tried to smile back, but Yahiko's eyes were closing again, slipping back into sleep.

But he squeezed Kenshin's hand before he went. Maybe it was a dream for both of them, but their hands were real and solid. So Kenshin held on.


	23. A Revealing Conversation

There was something wrong with Aoshi.

Compared with how damaged Kenshin seemed to be, Saito was tempted to overlook a few small lapses on Aoshi's part. But he had not lived this long by being unobservant.

Once in a while Aoshi's eyes would unfocus, which Saito found particularly odd. Aoshi's gaze had always been intense, the eyes of a man who watched and listened and left excess talking to others. A pleasant alternative to Himura Kenshin, who always felt he had to interject his own opinion into matters when a little shutting up and listening would do everyone a lot more good.

Aoshi's responses were also slower than what seemed normal. Whenever there was a pause in their conversation, sometimes Aoshi didn't answer right away when it resumed. He had even—not once, but _twice_ —politely asked Saito to repeat himself. Saito wouldn't claim to know Shinomori Aoshi well, but what he did know had been all that had been needed for a basic profile of character. Aoshi had brains, he was competent, honorable, and skilled. He was also less aggravating to speak with than anyone else here.

Saito didn't believe that Aoshi was behaving strangely, however subtly, because he was under stress. Every instinct he possessed said _something_ was _wrong_.

Saito decided to leave it for now, since—aside from the tiny lapses—it didn't seem to affect him his general reliability. Aoshi was alert, and there was nothing wrong with his movements or reflexes.

But it did appear Aoshi needed an eye to be kept on him as well, on top of everyone else.

"Don't look directly at it," Aoshi said, a little sharply, when Saito's eyes strayed to the collection of crystals and glass on strings that Aoshi still held in his lap.

Saito complied, averted his eyes and did his best to study the thing through peripheral vision as best he could.

The hot spring was a comfortable distance away, the two of them sitting out of the steam where it was easier to breathe, but close enough they could hear the others.

"What did you say it was?"

"Penna Tan said that it is called the Shortsifter. It's a small contrivance compared to its counterpart. The Mindsifter is on a much greater scale."

Saito thought of Kenshin again as he had first seen him. At first he had not known him, in spite of what his senses told him. Kenshin looked like a child, shivering in the arms of an old woman. Then when he stood up, Saito could see him better but still almost didn't believe when he saw his face. The eyes were unfamiliar. The same large size, the same color, yes, but they were empty of rationality.

His _mind_ was _gone_.

Somehow that one, solitary thought affected Saito in ways he didn't want to think about.

"How much did this Penna Tan tell you about the Mindsifter?"

Aoshi shook his head slightly. "A few things, but very little I can see to our advantage. It seems this Dadarusu from the legend was a living man once, a brilliant inventor, and ancestor to the Penna cousins. He came to understand he could manipulate a human mind with _eye movement_."

"Eye movement," Saito repeated.

"Yes. Penna Tan explained that these 'Patterns' are meant to make the eyes move in certain ways, and some are not only designed for eye movement, but for auditory stimuli as well, which Dadarusu found to have effect on the mind. The victim is forced to simply notice what happens before their eyes. Some Patterns result in a deep hypnotic state so that suggestions can be put directly into the victim. A few of those are found on the Shortsifter. But more complex Patterns, such as those of the Mindsifter, can be used to make a man's mind destroy itself."

"The mind destroys itself?"

"At suggestion, so the Penna boy said," Aoshi said. His voice was dull, sort of droning. This was not entirely out of the norm for Aoshi to speak so evenly, but Saito wondered.

"How did you come to be here?" Aoshi said then, a little too quickly. Saito had the feeling that this was a deliberate change of subject.

Saito asked, "Do you have any idea how much sleep Chief Uramura gets these days?"

Aoshi blinked.

"Very little," Saito answered. I got tired of passing his children outside his office, begging him to come home to get some food and rest."

Uramura had thrown himself into the search for Himura Kenshin every bit as vigorously as the rurouni's friends had. Actually, it was downright irritating that Kenshin's friends could take on such attitudes that _they alone_ were the only ones who thought of Kenshin, that _they alone_ were the only ones who were looking.

Saito could almost smirk at the irony of this self-inflicted isolation. It was even possible they didn't even realize it.

Be that as it may, there was an extensive and exhaustive search by Uramura and he was pulling all his resources and working long nights. It was a little bit of an exaggeration that Saito said he was sick of seeing the chief's children at the police station or on the way past the marketplace. They came often, but not every day. Uramura did go home to sleep, only occasionally skipped meals, and he observed his other responsibilities. But he worked hard trying to get a lead on Kenshin, who had along with his abductors vanished off the face of Japan, so it seemed. The chief felt he owed Kenshin something.

Perhaps he did.

_Saito_ didn't owe him anything.

Yet he found himself in those early days looking for a trail anyway. He was curious, more than anything, about people and their bizarre weapon that could effortlessly render the former hitokiri helpless. There was wariness of the challenge as well, because Saito wasn't quite arrogant enough to believe he would be immune to this weapon where Kenshin was not.

But there had been no trail, nothing that even the Oniwabanshu's talents could uncover. Kenshin was gone, and time passed without him everywhere else in the world except the Kamiya dojo.

It was only logical to believe he was dead. Uramura was just stubborn enough that he wasn't going to call off the investigation until they at least came up with a body. Kenshin's friends would not be willing to believe he was dead until presented with a corpse.

And then the breathless young lady-doctor had come to the police station in the wee hours of the morning with news, a new lead that Kenshin's headstrong friends had already run off to see for themselves.

" _Your_ trail was easy to pick up," Saito said. He started to reach for one of the cigarettes in his breast pocket, but dropped his hand instead with a grunt of annoyance. He didn't think he would be able to buy anymore cigarettes any time soon. Best to ration the ones he had. "Especially since you kept leaving posters of Battousai wherever you went."

Aoshi shrugged slightly, as though to say the flyers certainly weren't _his_ idea. "So you followed us to this island?"

Saito nodded. "The entrance is…" He trailed off, not really ready with the adjectives he needed to precisely describe what he thought of the entrance. "There should be another way in and out of this island. From what you say, this Penna family has trafficked prisoners into this island for a long time. I have a hard time believing this has always done by a fire pit over a pool of water."

"There is no way back up by that way," Aoshi agreed, deadpan.

Again, Saito looked at Aoshi sharply. Again, he almost asked the younger man if he was all right.

Again he chose to mind his own business.

Still…

"Shinomori. What was Penna Tan's reason for giving you the Shortsifter and giving you information? You were an enemy. Even if he was dying, why tell you anything?"

Aoshi was quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. He said, "I think he wanted to help Kenshin."

"And what sense does that make, if he and his cousin went through such lengths to capture and imprison him?

"According to the others, Penna Tan protested what he was doing to Kenshin from the moment he set foot in their home. It seems he was subservient to his cousin, a conditioning of the Mindsifter. To make up for the hierarchy that should have been in Dadarusu's house to begin with, with Ikarusu the son above Taro, perhaps, since those are the roles these two cousins have had to fill.

"But that's not really all." Aoshi frowned deeply, twisting one of the Shortsifter's prisms absently (and maybe a little unwisely) in his hands. "I think he believed that Kenshin can somehow save his cousin. He said that he believed Penna Hikaru wasn't beyond all hope of redemption. He said it strangely though…he said…"

Aoshi's expression became strangely distant again. Several seconds passed, and Saito had just opened his mouth to prompt him when he spoke again on his own. "He said that he believed that Kenshin could help his cousin fly."

Saito snorted, but Aoshi's expression seemed to suggest he didn't believe it was ridiculous at all.

"Penna Tan was speaking in metaphors while he died," he said. "I don't think he believed in true flight. But Kenshin is…good at saving people."

Saito glanced in the direction of the hot spring, still concealed by shadow and rocks. "Do you believe that wretched shadow of Battousai is capable of saving anyone?"

As harsh as the words were, Saito had not quite meant for them to come out so scathingly, the sentiment behind it closer to his own feelings on what had been done to his old enemy than as a true slight to either Kenshin or Aoshi.

His face was still turned away, so that he wasn't looking at Aoshi when the younger man said, "He can overcome this."

He sounded so certain, but when Saito locked eyes with him again, he froze at the shadow of true, cold fear that passed over the okashira's features. It was nothing more than that: a shadow. And it was gone instantly. But Saito had seen it.

"Shinomori—"

" _I have to believe he can overcome this_ ," Aoshi blurted, the sharp inflection of his voice contrasting with the lackluster tones of before.

Then, realizing he had revealed too much, Aoshi got up quickly, stuffing the Shortsifter back into his jacket with no apparent care for the device or how tangling it could make the Patterns unusable. He strode quickly out of the light of Saito's lantern, muttering that he needed to see Misao about something before she went to sleep.

Saito watched Aoshi's retreating back.

Saito wouldn't deny that he would rather be eating hot soba at his favorite stand than trying to find his way out of this subterranean hell. The soba stand, he mused dryly to himself, was the one that was in the open sun.

If any suspicions he was forming about Aoshi were true, and with Kenshin as he was, then it might be that the only reliable fighter left would be Sagara Sanosuke.

"Wonderful," he murmured aloud, rubbing at the bridge of his nose to ward against a forming headache.

He stood up and picked up the lantern, turning down the flame low to conserve fuel as he began to pick his way around fallen rubble toward the others, who by now were all finished bathing and finding a place to settle down for sleep.

This would _definitely_ be the last time he let his benevolent nature get the better of him.


	24. Spectacular Error

 

The young doctor fumed, ignoring the way people jumped to get out of her way and started at the stream of unladylike language that fell from her mouth in sporadic intervals.

To hell with them all anyway. Where the  _hell_ was that damn man?

She was at the point where she was refusing to believe that he had been the man who brought up Kenshin. There was no way it could possibly be true. Arrogant, taciturn, abandoning bastard! Kenshin was sweet and kind and thoughtful, and considerate, nothing at all like her jerk of a traveling companion.

Full of far too much nervous rage to sit still, Megumi kept making the short walk between the inn where she and Hiko had stayed the night before and a small jail where Oaka was being kept temporarily. It was safe enough to say now that this labyrinth within an island was finally being treated with proper seriousness, and for that she was glad. Even Chief Uramura had seemed a little skeptical of the idea that something like that could have existed for years outside of anyone's knowledge.

It was rather farfetched, but it was true. Megumi had no doubt now, and neither did Kenshin's master.

And Hiko, who was a rather large and powerful man, had been very angry about the things he had learned. Megumi had seen the look on his face. She had seen Kenshin cast some powerful glares, but this man's gaze was superior even to the rurouni's. By the time Hiko had finished extracting any information he thought of use from Oaka, the man wasn't in such good shape, most of the damage emotional from what she could tell of the nose-wrinkling scent near a man who had wet himself in terror.

He deserved it, and anyone who said otherwise could get the same treatment. It wasn't right for her, not only a doctor but a friend of one of the strongest men of mercy she had ever known, to think such things, but…

Terrible enough to hear of the things that were down in this hell Oaka had described in fits and bursts through the increasing pressures of Hiko Seijuro's promptings. Terrible, terrible things, a mechanism that destroyed minds, destroyed lives, a bloodline of people cursed as its caretakers, boys who tried to fly with homemade wings…

…and this  _absurd_ revenge on hitokiri Battousai!

Megumi leaned against the outer wall of the jail, eyes filling with tears. She had never once considered that the worst punishment ever inflicted on Kenshin for his actions back then would have been for the mistake of kindness.

So, then, neither had Hiko. There was little more to learn from Oaka, though there had been important things. The others had indeed found their way into the labyrinth and had caused such an uproar that the labyrinth's master had unleashed an army of some sort that Oaka called minotaurs. Megumi was as glad they were there as she was worried. They could be in danger, but she prayed that they had found and were protecting Kenshin.

Kenshin… She would get on her knees and face for her prayers if she thought it would help make the things said by Oaka less true. The images of him crawling and lost and crying and bleeding and broken couldn't leave her mind any more than the smug tone the kidnapper had used when he thought he had a chance to defend himself, before Hiko had shown him, in no uncertain terms, that he was  _not_ amused.

In fact, for a while, Megumi had thought Hiko was going to kill him. And while she wouldn't have shed a tear, she would still have had to protest…

He didn't, though. She wouldn't ask why. It didn't matter. Besides, not all of the things, if any, that Oaka said about Kenshin's condition could possibly be true. She was confident in that. That was her Ken-san, strong in body and mind…

And yet…Oaka had not taken one thing that he said about Kenshin back, not even when he pissed himself. They really had hurt Kenshin somehow.

Hiko believed it. She could see that.

Oaka was left with the small police force, not good for much. Incredible how Hiko had so incapacitated him without laying one hand on him.

Then the damned fool ran off, barely sparing the half a second it took to tell her that he would 'be back soon'. The phrasing, if not the tone of the words themselves, reminded her of Kenshin.

_Damn_ him!

She turned on her heel, frightening a short man carrying a sack on his back with her glower as she stomped past him. She was really wearing down a path between the inn and the jail, but right now she just couldn't seem to care.

She did, though, hear a loud groan through the thin walls of the jail, and felt a little better.

Ken-san would probably notapprove of what she had done. But it was his fault, and Hiko's, for leaving her here all alone with nothing better to do. Oaka looked so pasty that she thought that a good dose of European cascara might do him a world of good. The policemen probably weren't too happy about it at the moment; either that or they were having a good laugh if they could ignore the smell. Oaka was probably willing to tell anyone absolutely anything for a clean pair of hakama right now. And no permanent harm was done, of course. In fact, he'd feel nice and clean and fairly accomplished right about now.

Hiko could call her a shrew all he wanted, but at heart, this lady-doctor was still a vixen. And right now, she was wrathful enough that he would be lucky not to find a dose of the same in his sake jar when he got back.

* * *

Yahiko's back was cold. His front was warm and toasty.

 Weird.

Instinctively, he curled a bit, trying to get warm all over. His brow twitched as he snuggled into something warm and soft. Someone. Oh, he must have rolled into someone while he was sleeping.

He opened his eyes to see whose personal space he invaded. Dim light revealed a smooth chin, slightly parted lips. The boy's gaze rolled sluggishly upward, stopping when it reached a cross-shaped scar on the otherwise smooth face, drowsy eyes opening to see what was amiss.

"Oh…sorry, Kenshin," he murmured absently, starting to roll away. Kenshin pulled him back, an arm coming around his back to pull him closer.

"Stay, Yahiko," Kenshin said, voice hoarse with sleep. Yahiko could see his breath in the air. "I-it's cold. St-stay put."

Okay. Reasonable. Couldn't deny it was cold. Best to stay together for warmth. Back to sleep now…

His eyes snapped open, jaw slackened. Kenshin felt him stiffen and opened his own eyes again as well.

"Ken…shin?"

"Hm?"

"Kenshin!" Without thinking, Yahiko threw himself forward, locked his arms around Kenshin's neck. " _Kenshin_!"

"Urk? O-oro!"

"I thought I was dreaming! You're here, you're alive, you're all right! We found you!" Yahiko paused to take a deep breath. No tears, not yet. Not yet. Almost, though.

Yahiko scanned his friend over. He looked like he had an injured hand, and his face was so thin, but it was nothing like he imagined. Oh, after so many nightmares, so many fears of finding Kenshin tortured and broken in chains or his half-decayed corpse in a forgotten shadow in this god-forsaken hell, it was such a relief that he was mostly all right. Of course he would be. If anyone could find a way to survive here, it would be him. He just had a little trouble finding a way out was all. Yahiko wouldn't be too mad about that just yet. It was a labyrinth, after all.

Kenshin hugged back a little, a slight, sad smile on his face. "Ya-Yahiko?"

"Yeah?"

"Th-this one…" Kenshin hesitated, eyes wide and uncertain. "Couldn't st-stop it happening. Ah…"

He seemed to have more to say, mouth opened around words that didn't quite come forth. What could he be having so much trouble saying?

"It's okay, Kenshin. I know you couldn't stop them from taking you. I've had that thing used on me twice, and I couldn't even blink. But it's okay now-"

" _No_." Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, brought his uninjured hand close to his face and violently balled his fingers into a fist. "Please. Listen and…and n-not talk. Yahiko. It's…it's harder now. To talk. Please. Just…listen. Yes?"

Worried now, Yahiko watched Kenshin face as he spoke, and indeed it did seem like speech was difficult for him. Yahiko looked him over again, trying to see if he had any injuries of the throat or mouth. Maybe…his voice was awfully hoarse.

"Got…very hurt," Kenshin said. He paused and then locked eyes with his young friend. "Tried…to fight. Did badly the f-first times. Last time…so much b-better. F-fought better. Got less…less hurt. A little, not as much."

Yahiko slowly shook his head, not understanding at all. He did see Kenshin had no throat injury that he could see. Again, his dark eyes passed over Kenshin's form. He didn't seem very badly hurt. He needed very much to gain some weight and he looked like he needed a good long rest, but… What was he missing? Maybe there were infected injuries under his clothes or something.

"Kenshin, I don't-"

"Injured here." Kenshin tapped his temple. "Here."

Yahiko felt morbid horror rise up through his chest and spread over his face. He saw Kenshin's eyes sadden to see it.

"D-don't…please…don't be ashamed of this one. Can get better…get better…" He shut his eyes, but not before Yahiko saw the tears forming at the corners. "So stu-stupid…so stupid right now… Sorry. So sorry. Couldn't stop it h-happening."

"Oh…" Yahiko's mouth made the sound without consulting his brain. Then the sound kept falling from his lips, and he couldn't stop. "Oh…oh…oh… _oh_ … _oh_ …" God. God!  _God_!

And Kenshin looked afraid. Afraid! And confused, drawing back a little. Yahiko snagged his shirt—Sanosuke's jacket-and buried his face in it—be  _damned_ if he'd let Kenshin get away again, but he just couldn't…

Hesitantly, Kenshin's hand came around and started to clumsily rub his back. "Sorry…Yahiko," he whispered.

He couldn't hold the dam any longer. Months of frustration, rage, worry, and helplessness poured out. Just when he thought the injustice was as unbearable as was possible...

"Idiot! Fool!" Yahiko hissed brokenly into the fabric of the jacket. "How could you ever think I'd be ashamed of you?"

Never. Never in this life.

And they'd pay. They would pay for this. One way or another, someone would answer for this.

Then, all at once, Yahiko  _was_ ashamed, but ashamed of himself. Ashamed of thoughts of revenge Kenshin would never approve of. Ashamed that after all this, he was still 'borrowing' from Kenshin, quivering against him for comfort when he should have been strong, to be a comfort instead of the comforted.

He didn't know there were tears on Kenshin's face, and some on Kaoru's as well, and suspicious moisture in Sano's eyes. The two of them, he hadn't noticed, only just behind Kenshin. Here again, the world had become remarkably small, and the walls had closed in so narrowly.

And nobody denied it. For this, someone had to answer.

* * *

A decision had been made to leave Aijo and Daisuke in a residential cave they discovered.

 Everyone except Kenshin, including the old couple themselves, thought this a very sound idea. The residential cave had escaped notice of the minotaurs because it was accessed by a steep slope leading up to a small hole that most of the minotaurs would have been too big to fit through even if the little hole wasn't almost completely concealed by shadows. The people inside were cleaner and saner than the last one Kenshin's group had seen, most of them being as Aijo and Daisuke, simply bereft of all memory of their lives before the Mindsifter.

It was also one of the last places to receive a fresh delivery of food and supplies before Penna Tan's death, so the people holed up there would last for a time by staying together and keeping quiet.

Kenshin didn't want to leave his friends behind. He was so upset by the idea his speech fell apart so that nobody could understand a word he said, which only frustrated him more. Finally, the old man grew stern, like a father who wanted to ward off a temper tantrum from a normally well-behaved son, and led Kenshin aside with Aijo.

Kenshin was in unusually high focus, but it was a focus on only one thing. He had even forgotten his ever-present need to have Kaoru near, leaving her with the others as he was pulled aside by the elderly couple.

"Kenshin," Aijo began, but Kenshin cut her off.

"We can't leave you b-behind!" he said angrily. "What if we can't find you again? What then? Th-this is a bad idea!"

"Kenshin!" Daisuke said sharply, and the young man flinched.

Aijo's own temper flared. "Don't yell at him, you old fool," she hissed. "You're not helping him understand!"

Daisuke sighed deeply and then tried again. Reaching out, he gripped Kenshin's upper arms, softening his features. "Kenshin, look at me," he said, and waited for the small redhead to comply before he went on. "You've come such a long way since Aijo and I first met you. Did you know how proud we are of you?"

Kenshin blinked, his eyes wide.

Daisuke smiled gently. "You're so strong, Kenshin. All of your friends here are strong as well. We  _believe_ that you and your friends will get us back to the sun again. We believe that you can fight your way out of this hell and put an end to this all once and for all.

"But, Kenshin, Aijo and I are old, and this place is more dangerous than it ever was before with those…things…wandering around down here. And the roof is caving in everywhere. It would be better if we waited here with these other people. We can't tough it out like you young ones can."

" _No_ ," Kenshin insisted. His good hand gripped back at the old man. "No, Daisuke-dono. I…I can protect you. That's what I  _am_. He c-couldn't take that away from me! I can still fight!"

Abruptly he found himself enfolded in the old woman's arms. For some reason, it came to him that this was the first time he realized Aijo was a little taller than him. But then, most people were, it seemed.

"Kenshin, we know you can fight. And you've protected us lots of times, so we know you can do that too. But what you really need to do now is help your friends to find a way out of the labyrinth. That way, you won't only save us, but you'll save everyone here in the labyrinth that can still be saved. Don't you understand?"

Kenshin thought about that for a moment, leaning his head on the old woman's shoulder. Yes...there were lots more people, good people, besides Aijo and Daisuke who had lived in the labyrinth for a long time. Back when he was even less than he was now, Aijo and Daisuke's wasn't the only light he had looked in on. Theirs weren't the only mouths that coaxed him close, theirs not the only hands that offered food. He could remember no other faces, but he knew there had been others, even with so little already, who had been willing to help him. Here was the chance to help them in return.

Yet... "I understand," he said softly. "But I don't like it just the same."

Aijo laughed and Daisuke chuckled along with her. The old man, too, moved in to give Kenshin one last, affectionate hug. "Good," he said. "You keep not liking it. That means that you will get out of here, and once you have you'll come back for us."

So two friends were left behind, and Kenshin went away with his own people. His throat was tight, but his spirit was coming back, little by little. It  _had_ to because people were believing in him.

* * *

In spite of leaving Aijo and Daisuke behind, the others still concerned Kenshin. A glum group, they all were, and he had discovered that he could alleviate this a little by acting very cheerful.

 He first gained the idea in dealing with Sano, who had never failed to smile back when Kenshin grinned at him. In fact, it was such a familiar thing, like something he'd always done. It was easy too, to put on a cheerful smile and keep it going, maybe softly hum to himself, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was easy but used up a lot of energy. It made his arm ache and he stumbled on his bad knee a little more often. But it seemed worth it when the worried expressions on his friends' faces seemed to ease away, and their own smiles looked genuine. Kaoru and Yahiko, in particular, seemed to grow more cheerful as well the longer he kept it up.

Sano was not so fooled, though. Kenshin looked at him often, trying out his charm, but only discovered Sanosuke seemed to react well to him only when there were 'real' smiles to show. In fact, Sano sometimes frowned at him now. Not angry, Kenshin decided, but not fooled either, and a little concerned as well.

Maybe that was all right? Maybe that was as it should be?

He thought so. Sano was…perceptive.

And he liked that. He looked again at Sano and smiled once more. But this time he let what he felt show. Sano had to know. To know he was so glad to be back with the people to whom he belonged.

Sano saw it. Sano smiled back.

* * *

Aoshi first had his doubts about the bridge the first time he saw it when they were walking  _under_  it. The way up wasn't so high. In fact, on a day of fair energy, Aoshi considered that someone as good a jumper as Misao could have taken the rolling ledge in three bounds.

 But then the path they walked twisted, a man-carved slope leading them up higher and higher again until they had come back to the bridge, this time before it.

It looked old, a construction of simple wood. There were words in both Japanese and Greek carved in it, all graffiti, and standing on the edge below Aoshi could see what a thin stone wall had hidden from him when they had first walked below the bridge. The chasm went down further than the light of Saito's lantern and their filched torches allowed them to see, and there was a muted roaring from somewhere very far down. Water was running down there, somewhere.

Aoshi looked over the group, frowning at the nagging feelings somewhere in the back of his weakened mind. Unsurprisingly, the Kamiya group had permanently closed themselves around Kenshin like a cocoon. Kenshin had worn himself out a long time ago and was sleeping once again on Sanosuke's back, his right hand still holding onto Kaoru's. The boy Yahiko was never far and always had his shinai in his hand, looking sullen, angry, and haunted.

Misao was at Aoshi's side as always. Saito seemed to think it best to hang back, and it probably was since Kenshin didn't recognize him most of the time and didn't react well when he did. An introduction had once been attempted and hadn't worked out as far as Aoshi could remember...and he  _couldn't_ remember very well. Just the vague sense that they had decided to give it up for now. That Saito was both Dangerous and Enemy had been too deeply ingrained into Kenshin's instincts for his destroyed logic to grasp the idea that the Wolf was not here to fight and had no intention of harming his friends. That would have to come later.

Well, the bridge was fine. It was old, but it was in good repair. Different people had found amusement by carving their names or crude sayings and other bits in the banisters and planks, but the construction couldn't be faulted. It was perfectly sturdy as they began to march across it. So what was the problem? What was bothering him?

He was feeling partly foolish and partly relieved when they reached the other rocky side of the bridge. That was until he heard a faint snort from the mouth of the tunnel before him, and then saw the dull glint of a lifeless eye as a stray flicker of torchlight briefly brought sight a little into the tunnel.

Too late, he realized the bit of wisdom that was eluding him...

A bridge like this... It was a damn fine place for an ambush.

Aoshi's hand felt stiff as he moved it closer to his swords, stunned at his stupidity. Surely  _Saito_ had known this-sensed them some time before?

He knew better than to try to turn around and see, though Misao, always close by and always watching him, looked at him questioningly, and then hardened her features into alertness.

And a good thing, as well, because the first minotaur rushed out at him in silence, forcing him to throw up a blade in defense.

And it  _was_ defense, Aoshi realized in shock. His sword flashed and darted as swiftly as ever it had, but it was all in a desperate effort to keep the madman's steel from striking him. It was not for the first time in his life he had faced someone faster than himself-Kenshin had once had that honor-but Aoshi had not expected such disciplined steel to come at him from these shadows. Slashes of incredible speed forced him back, and other minotaurs surged around him. He swore out loud, mind wild to know how Misao was faring, but he couldn't take his eyes off his opponent to look for her just now. Snarling, his worry for the girl and, somewhat more distantly, the others, won out, and he gambled, continuing the motion of a block with a smash of his fisted hilt to the minotaur's vulnerable neck beneath the bull mask.

The minotaur was thrown back, but before Aoshi could either turn to look for Misao or step forward to follow up his attack, another was on him. Aoshi met him, and sparks were struck as steel wove a deadly lace between them. The former okashira felt rage so before contained he had not even noticed it come forth-at the Penna cousins, at the Mindsifter, at the Shortsifter that had done him such damage, rage all the way back to a Grecian madman who had thrown his nephew from a high building and told his son he could fly-and he felt it pour into his next attack, refusing this time to yield a step. Abruptly a slicing blow of his sword sheared through flesh and bone, but even as it did, he was forced to jump back to avoid a decapitating stroke.

Landing on guard and ready to continue, Aoshi felt the hair on the back of his neck stir. His last blow had stopped his opponent-and indeed it should have, as the sword the minotaur had been using now lay on the wood of the bridge with the hand that had gripped it-but it was obviously only a temporary halt. The expressionless bull's mask and lifeless eyes did not so much as glance at the severed wrist. Aoshi seized the moment as best he could, taking a slow step sideways and turning his head slightly to allow his peripheral vision and his hearing to pick up Misao and the others fighting somewhere not far behind him. It was all he had time for, but enough to bring him a measure of relief that they were holding their own. Then the murderous assault began anew.

In a smooth movement, the minotaur produced another sword from the back of his belt, and if he was accustomed to fighting with his right hand, he seemed little less able with the left. Aoshi met each lightning stroke, but his own double-blades were met as well. Then, the severed stump struck the side of his head with a force greater than he would have believed possible, flinging him back as though he were a child. He found himself down among a churning of stamping legs and bare feet, preoccupied in battle, but before he could rise, his attacker was on him. Desperately, Aoshi blocked a downward blow that would have split his skull. Aoshi grasped the hilt of the sword in his other hand and thrust. The minotaur twisted like a serpent, the blade sliding across his ribs and then under them. As though his bones had melted, he collapsed atop Aoshi.

Quickly he heaved the body from him and sprang to his feet, weapons ready, fearing some trick after what he had seen with the severed wrist. But the downed minotaur did not move.

Aoshi thought again of the depths of the effects of the Mindsifter and could not suppress a small shudder.

Wrenching his thoughts back to what he was meant to be doing here and now, and raised his eyes for more opposition and froze again when he saw Kenshin coming toward him.

The injured rurouni was weaponless; a quick glance told Aoshi that the girl, Kaoru, had it, fighting almost back to back with the boy, both of them too engaged within their fights to notice Kenshin had left them. Sanosuke was helping Misao, yanking a smaller minotaur away from her and heaving him over the bridge before turning to catch a wide hammer swung at him, and Misao was on the defensive at the moment, dodging blows of a warrior nearly twice her size. Only Saito marked Kenshin's passage, but he didn't interfere, either because he was too busy fighting off his own swordsmen, or because he rightly thought he might do more harm than good.

The redhead made it around the fighting without drawing much attention to himself and Aoshi turned toward him, wondering if Kenshin would know him, and feeling somewhat irritated for the distraction.

Kenshin stopped just short of him, looking a little unsure. "...Aoshi?"

Aoshi nodded quickly, feeling as relieved as Kenshin looked. Then the rurouni stretched out his right hand to him and said, "Aoshi, lend this one  _kodachi_."

"What?" Aoshi blurted, surprised into speech.

"Lend this one..." Kenshin repeated, flexing his fingers toward the swords again.

Aoshi opened his mouth, fully intending to refuse the request. Whatever reason that addle-brained girl had to take his stick from him to use for herself, he was much better off with that. Aoshi did  _not_  think it would be helpful for Kenshin's damaged mental health if Aoshi allowed him to break his oath by giving him a cutting sword now.

But the words died on his lips as Kenshin smiled then, spreading his fingers as if to ask for trust.

"Please, Aoshi. There are things that can't be accomplished with a stick."

Aoshi swallowed hard, eyes still locked with Kenshin's gentle ones. He looked and sounded so much like himself...

He tightened his grip on the  _kodachi_ held in his left hand once, then offered it to the redhead, praying all the while he wasn't making a spectacular error.

"Thank you," Kenshin said, polite and grateful as he ever was, as if he had things under control...and then he was gone, darting back the way he had come on a limping run.

Into the fray again was the logical place for Aoshi to be as well, but a terrible numbness gripped him as he watched Kenshin move, avoiding the points of conflict as best he could. He seemed to have a goal in mind.

Then he stopped as two bullish faces turned toward him. Aoshi knew it couldn't be so, but he almost thought he could see the nostrils flaring along with the animalistic snorts the beastmen made.

Cursing himself, Aoshi took two steps forward, wishing he hadn't given Kenshin the sword, wishing that he had  _followed_  him at least. Even if he made a sprint for it, he'd never make it in time... Kenshin...would he slash them?

Kenshin's knees bent slightly, and then he sprang from the ground. The jump was weak, Aoshi could see, because he was using power from only one leg, but it did carry him over the heads of the minotaurs. His landing some distance away from them required the use of his bad hand, thrusting it out before him to steady his weight on the stone floor.

It had to be very painful, Aoshi knew, as he watched Kenshin take only two seconds to rest on one knee with the tortured limb clasped to his chest. Then he was up and running again, gait even slower and far less steady than it had been before. But it was still movement with purpose.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, and at the same moment Kaoru cried out to him, having finally noticed he was not under the protection of any contingency she had placed him under when she had taken his stick. He half-turned toward her, smiling gently, then raised his voice.

" _Kaoru-dono! Yahiko! Sano! Misao-dono! Get off the bridge!_ "

Maybe it was the acoustics of this particular tunnel but his voice carried and boomed, drawing the attention of not only his friends but the minotaurs as well. The two who had accosted Kenshin moments before moved toward him now. He didn't raise the sword to defend himself. Both Aoshi and Sanosuke took a few steps toward him, but they were stopped when Saito moved in front of them, holding up a gloved hand.

"Best to let him," he said in a low voice.

"Let him  _what_?" Sanosuke demanded, his voice and body trembling in a way that made Aoshi believe that Sano  _did_  know what Kenshin meant to do.

But Aoshi didn't understand until Saito pointed. Behind Kenshin, on the other side of the bridge, more minotaurs had come from the tunnels they had just passed, pouring out in a river of bodies, and this time Aoshi noticed the stench of rot from their masks followed them.

"The tunnel ahead looks narrow and there might be more of them there," Saito said calmly. "But the way we came is wide and choked with more than we can see. It's best to let him. No one can do it more quickly than he can and still jump to safety in time."

_What_? Unconsciously, Aoshi shook his head, drawing an odd look from Saito that he ignored for the moment.

Misao understood though and grabbed at Kaoru, who had darted forward, the tendons of her face set like death.

"Yahiko!" the redhead called again, still not moving as the minotaurs surged behind him, and the boy started, knuckles white on the hilt of his shinai. Something passed between them, looking eye-to-eye.

"They won't die!" the boy burst out suddenly, addressing Kenshin. "There's water below!"

Kenshin smiled with relief and raised the  _kodachi_  and at the same time, Yahiko turned toward Kaoru, grabbed her arm and began pulling her the rest of the way off the bridge.

"He can do it, Kaoru. Look at his eyes! Believe in him. He'll be back over here in no time."

Sano was tense for another second like he wanted to go after Kenshin, but in the end, he began to take long, stiff steps backward. Misao touched Aoshi's arm to get his attention, and they too backed off the bridge.

What minotaurs on their side that weren't taken out in the initial fight before Kenshin's shout, looked momentarily confused, turning masked heads from their direction to Kenshin's, as if not certain who was posing the greater threat - the ones who were retreating or the small redhead holding a short sword above his head.

_Spectacular error? Or not?_

The sword was smaller than what Kenshin would be familiar with, but if anyone could manage he could. Most of the minotaurs were in the center now.

_They won't die! There's water below!_

It was then, as Kenshin flipped the blade and lashed it backward against the wood of the bridge at his feet, chunks and splinters flying, that Aoshi understood.

Most of the weight in the center. His insistence for them to get off. Too slow, too late, Aoshi understood.

Kenshin was dropping the bridge.

It didn't fall right away, and Kenshin had ample time to bend and spring like he had before. Aoshi felt his mouth open, though nothing came out. Kenshin's jumps, they weren't as powerful as they should be. Aoshi moved, running forward as the bridge collapsed, and the minotaurs mingled, making long bovine-like noises of dismay. He stretched out a hand, knowing Kenshin's jump would be short—

It was. The redhead's eyes were wide and distraught as his bandaged fingers grasped at the empty air just a paper's width from Aoshi's, and then he was plummeting into a darkness that rushed up to swallow him.


	25. Master Dragon

For an eternity, Kenshin could see nothing but white burst before his eyes. Pain stars that didn't go away until he made an effort to raise his right arm. It was heavy-still he gripped Aoshi's sword. Trembling all over, he set the blade between his teeth and then grasped the plank in front of his face to take some weight off his left arm. He didn't know how far he was from the bottom, and couldn't muster the strength to look. Only to hold on.

Yes. That last jump had been very badly off. But at least he'd been able to catch himself on what was left of the bridge dangling from this side.

He giggled, a little hysterically, to himself and then tried to fight renegade laughter. He  _needed_  to keep what shredded wits he still had about him just now. Kaoru would be furious enough as it was. He'd never be able to do enough chores to make up for this.

Blood from his left hand tickled down his arm, tickling the underside. Now he had blood on Sano's jacket too. If he couldn't wash it out, maybe Sano would accept a new one...

He could hear the others up top, the jumbled sounds of them. He wished he could call out, but he hadn't forgotten Aoshi's sword in his teeth. It had to be returned... He felt his thoughts shiver, his mind shrinking back from the situation.

 _No, no, no. Keep sane, keep sane, keep sane...!_   _Focus! Focus-!_

Swallowing hard, Kenshin rolled his eyes up to the shadowed ceiling and began to mentally check off all the chores at home he thought he could do one-handed for a while.

He raised his bandaged hand, dug his fingernails into the wood, and began to climb.

There was loud creaking and swaying with the movement. He took a deep breath through his nose, and thought that he could maybe  _try_ to do the laundry with only one hand…

The wood splintered under his palms, gave away...

Then Kenshin heard steel.

He knew the sound very well indeed, and the loud grunt of effort that came with it. His head still managed to spin in the darkness with the sudden jerk that arrested his fall; something cold thrust between his skin and the back of Sano's jacket. He jerked from the sudden stop, the sound of fabric ripping loud and reverberating around him, along with the low but vicious curse from somewhere just above him.

There was a long point of stillness, except for his body quaking slightly, and there were shouts and other sounds from somewhere above. The voices and faces were jumbled in his mind and couldn't be matched together.

"I really," said a clipped, low voice near him, "thought that you could pull that off, Battousai."

He stiffened and heard more ripping fabric.

"Hold still. I'm not following you any further down. If you fall, you fall."

"Hhh…hh...who is that…?"

No answer, at first. And then a very slight sigh. "Shut up and hold still."

The voice raised, trying to reach out toward the smaller voices further above, but Kenshin lost track of what was said as the echoes bounced the words together, the effort to follow the conversation making him a little sick, even more so than the fact that he was fairly certain he was dangling in midair and there was probably a good long drop below into more pitch darkness and a tumble of chaotic noises.

"Did you  _hear_  that?" he was suddenly asked-or perhaps not suddenly after all since the voice was bitten with impatience.

"W-what?"

Another exhalation, muffled like it was blown out through clenched teeth. The words were slow and loud. "We can't go back up. We have to find a way down after all."

Kenshin sucked in his breath. No. No, no. That was not right. Not right. Kaoru was  _up_ , and since it was with Kaoru that he was supposed to be, then up was the only choice. There was no  _down_.

Kenshin opened his mouth to explain this when her voice came to them, ricocheting off the walls that had once held the bridge between them, the untraceable movement as vicious as her tone.

" _Saito! SAITO!_  We're going to find our way down there, and when I get to you, if you've hurt or upset him, I'll  _skin you alive!"_

He shut his mouth again quickly. First, because he was startled such a loud voice could come from a female chest. Second, because it seemed someone was going to be flayed if he got upset, and Kaoru didn't sound like she was being idle over the threat.

But wait...wait...

Did she say...

… _Saito...?_

 

Finding solid ground again was an adventure. Saito found his native tongue lacking in obscenities to describe his frustration, and was forced to use a few borrowed from other languages, then begin making some up on the spot as he needed them when those ran out.

It was difficult enough for one to climb down the sheer face of a stone wall. Even more of a challenge when one is doing it in stygian blackness.

Trying to do it with a half-panicked, mentally retarded swordsman that did  _not_  trust you was altogether far too much. No less than fifteen times in as many minutes Saito had decided to just drop him and see what could be collected of him later.

Drastic measures had to be taken, but perhaps not quite that drastic.

He held Kenshin out on his sword, listening to the unintelligible things the rurouni said as his words became jumbled in his disconcertion upon understanding that he was being dangled into space by Saito Hajime. Adjusting his weight carefully on the very narrow rock edge that had been supporting his weight this far, Saito carefully gauged where all parts of the smaller man were, including the good right hand that still held the borrowed  _kodachi_ , then swiftly and suddenly reeled him in, slamming a fist hard into his gut.

The rurouni lost his breath and went limp, and became much more pliant. Saito slipped Aoshi's weapon through his belt and slung Kenshin over his shoulder, deciding he would have earned another cigarette fairly soon. The girl would be wanting his blood by now, but he couldn't very well get them both to safety if the fool was trying to fight him the entire time. And as for the blow to the stomach...well, he was simply reluctant to hit him in the head, not after all the damage that seemed to have been done in that area already.

But then, Saito wondered if a good blow to the head wouldn't actually help matters.

Not being able to see, the former Shinsengumi captain was forced to climb down the slow way, finding his way by feel and touch for hand and foot holds. After an hour of this slow going, he was even more viciously cursing the decision to dive after him in the first place. He should have obeyed his first impulse and grabbed the roosterhead and chucked  _him_  into the chasm. If he caught Kenshin, fine. If not, good riddance to both of them.

Still, he had already been put through a lot of trouble so far just to let it end here.

The stone was getter damper the further down he went, and he hoped that he was right in guessing where the outer ledge was. If he could find it, the others could meet up with them fairly easily. And if he couldn't, then the water below had to end somewhere. Either way, it had been impossible to get back up, not with the way the ledges were curved in. It had been an ideal place to build a bridge, but it could not be scaled.

Kenshin was showing signs of waking as Saito finally found an inner tunnel carved into the wall. It hadn't quite been what he wanted and was probably going to complicate reuniting with the others, but it was better than Kenshin coming awake while they were still clinging to the wall.

Maneuvering inside was a challenge, but Saito was able to dump the confused rurouni onto the floor just as he began to struggle.

Kenshin moved away from him, Saito keeping track of him as he edged toward the wall, making soft noises of discomfort about the pain of his stomach.

"Saito?" he hissed.

"I'm not here to fight, Himura," Saito said softly, keeping at a unthreatening distance. "I'm not looking to fight," he repeated, in case it wasn't understood the first time.

Kenshin was quiet for a moment. Then he pointed out, "You hit me."

"You made that necessary," Saito countered dryly. But Kenshin seemed to be willing to ask questions first and attack later. And that was good. "Don't give me another reason, and it shouldn't happen again."

Kenshin was silent for another moment, then he asked, "Where is Sano?"

It was Saito's turn for a moment of silence. He had not expected Sanosuke to be the first person asked for, but then... He wouldn't ask for the girl if he was afraid because, in his mind, she was still someone he needed to protect. Sanosuke, though, he was someone he could rely on, depend on.

Snorting at the idea, Saito said, "He's—"

He stopped, and in the darkness and the space between them he felt Kenshin stiffen. Shuffling and snorting, from within the tunnel. Sounds that cattle made.

Saito took out a cigarette, struck a match to light it. The fire's glimmer did little more than reveal part of Kenshin's pale face, his right eye wide with fear.

"If I give you back your sword," Saito said, slowly and carefully as the match burned down the stick, "you will remember  _they_  are the ones you are fighting?"

He didn't bother to cover his sarcasm, but he was serious as well.

Kenshin looked surprised but nodded slowly.

Saito handed him the  _kodachi_.

It was like a bad dream. Or like memories he wished he didn't have, even with so few left to him…

 The details had become smudged. Most things were smudged, and then sometimes punctuated by sharp images.

Small things. Not the real things, happening now, but the memories. The sound a paper lamp makes when it falls to the ground, the candle sputtering out. The smell of its wax, easy to detect on a windless night. The glint of weak silver moonlight off a man's eyes, made bright and reflective by tears. The sound of steel hitting steel.

He felt sick and bare-nerved, but wasn't sure just why. The man he just now remembered, with blood and tears on his face seemed a sore and ragged spot in his memory that had nothing to the damage inflicted by the Mindsifter, but that wasn't quite all.

Saito was nearby, and Kenshin was careful to keep track of him, but in doing this, it was difficult to keep track of anything else, even when his remaining senses were assaulted. He had fought with less than this, he could remember being almost blind and almost deaf and barely able to perceive but the strongest of sensations, and still holding his own, fighting not for his life, but for someone he wanted to protect, but... Loud grunts, bellows, crashing, earth-shaking. Suffocating, the tunnel seeming to close in. Something buried in his mind came awake and shrieked at him, unable to make itself heard at the noise.

A shadow appeared before him, great and looming. It wasn't Saito. Kenshin lashed out—

—the sword came back bloody. He knew this, but not because he could see it. He could barely  _see_ anything. But he knew there was blood because of the smell, the feel of it splatter on his forearm, the warmth of it. The shadow back off, making a noise of pain that was between a bellow and a howl, and Kenshin backed further into the wall, confused.

_Bleeding…bleeding...cut..._

 

Saito heard the sharp, dismayed cry and was more annoyed than startled—though he was both. Kenshin was only at his heel and he batted away another blade of chipped, unsharpened steel before jerked back and reached out to grab the wrist of Kenshin's sword arm.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded, hoping the fool hadn't gotten himself injured so soon. The rurouni was pliant and unresisting as Saito jerked him out of the way of a falling hammer, sensed by the roar of effort and the whistle of wind. The world shook and stone chips flew, striking the side of Saito's face.

"It...it cuts!" Kenshin said, voice quavering.

Saito rolled his eyes. Just amazing. The smaller man had just gone from somewhat able to protect himself to completely useless in a matter of minutes. "Of course it cuts, fool. It's a sword."

Except some swords weren't made to cut, and those were the kind this moron used. Impatient and dangerously annoyed, Saito got a firmer grip on the back of Kenshin's shirt. There was a tunnel that led out of this one, found suddenly and completely by accident amidst the chaos. Saito didn't know where it led. He also figured it might disorient even his respectable sense of direction and make it that much harder to find the others, or at the very least, the exit. It was narrow enough they could be followed only by smaller minotaurs, but at least the ones with the great stone hammers would have to be left behind. For all that he knew, he could be walking into even thicker blackness and into a nest of them.

But his choices were to remain where he was and slaughter minotaurs until he was eventually boxed in by the close quarters and their sheer, uncountable numbers in the darkness, or to at least try to escape into a larger area. Any third option was welcome, but not forthcoming.

They encountered no resistance, Saito moving at a pace somewhere between a brisk walk and a jog, dragging Kenshin along unkindly. After another few minutes, it became easier to see, though no less easy to hear over the sounds of stone hammers crashing against stone walls. Perhaps the minotaurs thought they could chip and batter a bigger hole so that the larger of their number could come through. Which was a ludicrous thought, since the tunnel was just as narrow for as far as they had come.

Then, the hammering stopped all at once, and Saito listened and strained his senses, but he could make out no sounds of nearby pursuit. And there had been a number of those insane creatures who had been slight enough to follow easily.

This was most concerning. The minotaurs were very enigmatic. They seemed single-minded, but not  _quite_ mindless. Saito had not yet heard them speak, making only bovine-like noises and bellowing yells, and yet they showed discipline, fortitude, cunning, and skill with their weapons.

What was he running into that the minotaurs didn't feel they had to follow?

No choice. But there was light somewhere close by, as Saito realized his vision was returning. Torches were going to appear along the walls soon. He could smell oil and almost thought he could hear the slow-burning flames.

With returning sight and the new silence, Saito also began to hear Kenshin's mumblings. He had been going on for a while now, low and unintelligible, though Saito had been far too busy putting distance between them and the fight to pay him any mind other than to keep him close and moving.

Coming around a curve, there was light from the first torch in a rusted and crumbling sconce. This meant that these tunnels were inhabited enough that people regularly came to tend the lights. Stopping under the sconce, Saito grabbed a hold of Kenshin and forced the rurouni to face him.

Or at least turned his body toward him. All of Kenshin's attention was fixed on his right arm, and the small, drying blood spatters on the blade in his hand, mouth working with few understandable words finding their way to Saito's understanding.

Saito's mouth thinned as his annoyance rose even further. He had been mixed into enough affairs with the rurouni of the Meiji—both by his own witness and by the later accounts of others—to come to the realization that even when whole in mind and body, a lot of Himura Kenshin's mental fortitude did come from the fact that his sword allowed him to battle and not slay. The fact that he had a proper front-bladed sword drawn and had cut someone, even though the hit had not been fatal, might have been detrimental even to the undamaged Kenshin's heart.

Still, Saito neither had the time nor the patience to deal with this in a gentle manner. Holding Kenshin firmly by his borrowed shirt, Saito raised his hand and slapped him soundly across the chops.

For several seconds, Kenshin just stared at the wall where his head had turned with the force of the blow, eyes wide with surprise. Saito waited to see what his reaction would be and had just time enough to see the redhead's face twist into anger before he found the pommel of Aoshi's  _kodachi_  buried in his gut. Saito's breath exploded outwards and he sprang back reflexively, a mirror to the way Kenshin jerked the opposite way and backed up a few steps.

"You hit me  _twice_!" he snarled angrily, injured arm and sword brought up to his chest in a defensive posture. "Twice!" he repeated. "Do you want to fight, or  _not_?"

Seeing him standing there, glaring and accusatory, face reddened in anger and ready to fight if Saito but said the word brought a smirk to the wolf's face in spite of everything. "Not just now. We'll settle this later."

Kenshin seemed satisfied enough with this answer and, eyes still narrowed distrustfully, he began to look around.

There wasn't much to see. Darkness the way they came and a patch of darkness the way they were going that Saito hopefully assumed would lead to other lighted areas.

He watched Kenshin scan their surrounds, the smirk having long drawn itself into a deep frown. Seconds ago the redhead had seemed to be crumbling before his eyes, and now he seemed sharp-eyed and analytical, the fact that he might have nearly broken his vow forgotten. But this attitude was as single-minded as the one before. He obviously had no room in his mind for too much at once, including his precious Kaoru, their ward, or his 'dependable friend'.

Saito wondered if the insides of his head were so messed up that no further damage could really be so noticeable, or if it was just that he had forgotten the incident so quickly. So easily swayed between oblivion and lucidity by jolts or mere distractions.

Then Kenshin said, "Which way are they waiting?", and Saito realized that perhaps he wasn't as single-minded as he seemed, nor had he forgotten as much as Saito thought.

Saito merely shook his head to the question. He honestly had no idea.

Kenshin's face went slack. "I l-lost them?"

Saito stifled a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired.

Truly, Hell could not be worse than this.

In any event, Saito didn't have to deal with any more violent mood swings, and Kenshin did not dissolve into a puddle of tears, though he looked close to it a few times.

 The former Shinsengumi captain had plucked one of the newer-looking torches from the corridor, and with no better plan simply decided to keep where the signs of humanity were by following the lights. Kenshin followed behind him, a soft snuffling noise coming from him once in a while, but calm and reasonable enough. He was upset, but at least he was being quiet about it.

He still held the  _kodachi_. Saito had considered taking it from him, but some deep instinct warned him to just…let the balance, however precarious, continue. That he had a sword in his hand, Kenshin could feel but wasn't paying any attention to in his distress over losing the others. He carried it, but his mind wasn't on it or its sharp edge. If there was danger he would still have the means to defend himself. Saito could—and would—protect him to a point, but the opponents they had encountered so far fought in great numbers.

It was incredibly risky, but if it was a choice of endangering his mental health or his life…  And where his life was salvageable, his mental health was already devastated, possibly beyond repair.

Saito tried to shrug the thought off. It was a tangled way of thinking, and he had other things to concentrate on, such as his regret about coming down the firepit in the first place.

They came around another curve and the long, narrow tunnel finally revealed another direction other than straight on. An even more narrow, cylindrical tunnel that dipped sharply into the inky blackness. The sound and smell of water drifting up to them, possibly leading to the stream where Kenshin had dropped the bridge and the minotaurs that had ambushed them.

Saito eyed the little hole thoughtfully, eyes lingering absently on Kenshin's head as the smaller man leaned close to the hole, eyes sad but curious as he, too, inspected it, though with not the same conclusions Saito had come to. This little tunnel looked like it was carved so that one could slide down it on one's belly, possibly for a drop into the water. Cold as that might be, Saito knew that the others would be trying to find a way to that very stream, trusting that Saito and Kenshin could be found along there, somewhere along there. That had been the plan, to try to find each other along the underground stream…

Still, this was a very small hole. Someone as slight as Kenshin could probably slide through without too much trouble, but Saito was not entirely certain that  _he_  could. If he tried, he could see it would be a tight squeeze.

Both men froze at the long, low groan that cut through the air. Without further warning, the lights that would have lit the way where the glow of Saito's torch ended were snuffed out with a burst of powerful wind that hit the both of them with its icy blast.

Saito's fire only survived because he had the presence of mind to twist his body around and lift an arm to protect it, not willing to be in the dark if he could do something to prevent it.

He heard, then, the noises of cattle. The shuffling and groaning of herd animals. They were coming. They didn't have to come in the other way if they knew a way around. The minotaurs would have lived their lives here. They knew their way around their territory. Either that or these were a completely different herd of them. They all looked alike, wearing the masks.

Saito felt his left eye twitch, his annoyance coming to a peak. His eyes slid to Kenshin just as the first glassy-eyed bovine head appeared from the last of the shadows where the torches had gone out. Kenshin held the short sword at-ready, without even looking at it. His face was not narrowed into the customary battle expression, nor did he seem very frightened. Confused and concerned was more like it.

Chances were, he'd forgotten he was not holding his sakabato or a non-lethal stick in his hand and cut someone again and freeze or lose what was left of his mind again.

Again, Saito decided against taking the  _kodachi_  from him; he could not leave him unable to defend himself. Yet to let him fight with it...

A vein stood out on Saito's temple as he realized how much of a circuit his thoughts had become. Besides, there was a third option.

Quite calmly, he laid the torch on the floor and reached out and snagged Kenshin, got a good grip on his collar and his hakama and  _pitched_ him smoothly into the little tunnel. The shocked cry was almost comical, but it was all the observation Saito had time for as he drew his blade in time to block the first charge, a stinking, rotting bull's face bearing down into his from across their locked blades.

He didn't know how many minotaurs were down the tunnel, but he did know that the tunnel was too narrow for more than one or two to attack him at once, with others crowding behind…it might take time to follow through the tunnel back to the river, if he could fit through it at all.

He hoped the little fool at least remembered how to swim.

As it turned out, the one who had designed this particular tunnel did not have the idea of the user of it falling into the river, but to slide out on his back or stomach to be deposited onto something soft and bunching beside a shallow side of the underground stream, like hay.

 No one had ever put hay at the bottom of the slide or else had not replaced the stone floor with anything soft to land on since the labyrinth was carved into the island. Either way, Kenshin slid out of the tunnel on his stomach, and his landing was on hard stone and smooth, water-polished rocks. Pain exploded on his chin and chest, the breath knocked from him with the force.

Head spinning, he got to his knees quickly, got an arm under him to help him rise—and found himself looking into a pair of huge blue eyes, set in a frozen, withered face.

He scrambled back, slamming his back hard into the stone wall, thoughts awhirl with alarm.

It was a woman, and she was dead. Something had been eating her since only part of her body was left. Kenshin didn't examine what was missing closely, his eyes still locked with the lifeless ones.

She had blue eyes…blue eyes, just like—

"Kaoru-dono," he whispered aloud, clutching the  _kodachi_  to his chest.

Trembling with cold and fatigue he struggled to his feet and moved away from the body, closing his eyes against the missing limbs, the excavated stomach cavity. He hoped other people hadn't done this to her.

He was moving, shoulder close to the wall as a guide when he heard a faint noise behind him. He turned around quickly, heart pounding, half-remembered dreams of being attacked by corpses still fresh in his mind.

The sound had been made by the rugged toenails of a large silver wolf on the flat stone by the dead woman's body.

It was an eerie creature, missing an eye and part of an ear. Ragged with mange. Kenshin began to back away slowly, breathing hard through his nose, his knuckles white on the sword hilt. It followed him, moving as slowly and far more purposefully.

Eyes wide, Kenshin tried to think. Was it even real?

He hesitated, still backing away until his back met yet another wall. There was nowhere to run, except back to the freezing stream, he realized. And right now, he didn't think he could outrun a wolf even if there was somewhere else to go.

 _Was_ it real?

He raised the  _kodachi_  in front of him, too light and unfamiliar in his hand, eyes locked with the wolf's. He took a deep breath.

"S…S-Saito…?" he asked it.

No man's voice came from the animal this time. It cocked its head, yellow eyes that something within Kenshin understood. Kenshin looked small and weak and lame. He also looked and smelled warm and fresh and soft, not at all like the carrion it had been eating…

There was no reason to hesitate. Not for the animal.

The man, though, did, still not certain the wolf wasn't really Saito, or maybe even someone else, and in the next involuntary eye-blink, he felt himself slammed violently into the stone, the impossible weight of the beast on his chest. Whether it was truly an animal this time or only something his mind was inventing, the creature's intentions were to hurt him. Kenshin reacted. Injured arm thrown up to protect his face and neck, he managed to slam the hilt of the sword into the roof of the animal's mouth. Teeth put pressure on Kenshin's arm, little rivulets running down his elbow, but he kept the wolf's head forced up and its mouth open.

The animal reacted to this unexpected resistance violently, jerked its head in an attempt to free it from this unorthodox pinning, and then began to rip and tear at Kenshin's belly and thighs with his hind legs, ripping open his clothing and skin with long, jagged nails.

He opened his mouth to scream and, on a violent whim of inspiration turned his head enough to shriek directly into the wolf's ear hole, with all the power of his lungs and throat. It jerked again, ears flattened in defense, but Kenshin kept the hilt shoved up into its mouth. The wolf viciously threw itself sideways, belly exposed for the same instant it was able to turn its head and free both its muzzle and Kenshin's arm. It was all the rurouni needed, the instant, the sword whirling in his grip, his arm coming down and then back again in an upward stroke, blade buried deep in the wolf's innards. Gripping the sword hard, he dragged until he struck breastbone and the beast fell away, dying as it hit the stone.

Kenshin lay for a moment, breath coming out in gasps and throat burning from screaming. Then he rolled onto his stomach and got his knees under him, shuddering and shaking, his gasps gradually becoming sobs.

_Please let it not be a man. Please…_

He looked again, but all it seemed to be was what it looked like: an old, scarred wolf misplaced deep in an underground labyrinth. Blood was all over Kenshin, a lot of it his own, a lot of it the animal's, and at the sight of it, for a moment his vision almost went white. He nearly accepted it, too; to sleep for a time and hope that he either woke up somewhere else, or maybe even not at all, when a stray thought floated up to his attention.

**_Wolves hunt in packs._ **

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and forehead, oblivious to the way he smeared wolf's blood across his face.

_What?_

**_Wolves. Hunt. In. Packs._ **

He stood up carefully, the wounds left by the wolf's claws and teeth stinging and burning. His breathing had gone from harsh to ragged and hurting as he spied yet another hunter, this one as bedraggled but far more shaggy than the last. Then another appeared behind it, and another coming from the nowhere of the shadows. There were noises behind him, possibly more wolves, but Kenshin didn't turn to see. Instead, he closed his eyes. He had almost nothing left...

The image of Kaoru's face...no, many images of her, foremost and the clearest to his mind. She'd be terribly upset if he allowed himself to die here. He didn't really think she'd skin Saito alive, but the policeman probably would experience the full extent of her wrath. Didn't it seem almost fitting that one Wolf didn't know better than to throw him to more wolves?

Kenshin was about to reorder what useful parts of his body were left into a fighting stance as the first animal leaped. Only his bad knee gave out on him at last, causing the stance to fail, and at that moment he might have only been able to get the sword into the wolf's gut as it sank its teeth into his neck had a dragon not suddenly imposed itself between Kenshin and the hunters.

It was long, snaking fury and great white wings, all howling and wind and power. Wolves, no longer stalkers but victims frightened for their lives and enraged by the fact, attacked, only to be shredded by claws.

Movements jerky and mechanical, Kenshin began to push himself backward on the stone floor until he was stopped by a wall. Frozen there, his heart thumping in his ears, blood tingling through his skin and temples, through the burning wounds, but he felt almost detached from the sensations, like they were as unreal as everything else...

One of the wolves had chosen to flee, and the dragon didn't pursue it, instead turning slowly to cast fury-slanted eyes on Kenshin. Almost not of his own accord, Kenshin shut his own eyes to block it out, but he could still feel the presence moving toward him, the shadow that cast over him somehow colder than any other around him.

He waited in the shadow.  All that he could hear was the thud of his heart and his labored breathing. Something large and heavy gripped his shoulders and Kenshin gasped, curling into himself.  Images of wolves being torn apart by claws of steel exploded behind his eyelids.

But there was a voice somewhere very nearby. A man's voice. He struggled to grasp the words, finding his own name said many times until at last...

"Kenshin. Kenshin.  _Kenshin_. It's me. It's  _me_." The voice lowered an octave in hard authority. "Kenshin, look at me!"

His head felt impossibly heavy, a struggle to lift. Lift it up to a familiar face. Sharp, handsome and deeply masculine features, framed by the foolishly long and gravity-defying collars of that ancient mantle that was a symbol of all the ones who had carried his name for thirteen generations.

This was the dragon.

Hiko's large hands tilted Kenshin back by his shoulders, face growing blank in alarm at the amount of blood on him.

The spell of detachment broke at once and Kenshin fell forward, buried his face in his master's shirt and burst into tears.


	26. Confusion

The biggest discomfort was thirst and a thin sense of nausea that comes with overexertion over a long time with no food or water. This place could almost develop in a man claustrophobia that would not have existed before. And the most Saito had to show for his bout in the close confines of the tunnel were bruised ribs, brought on by a lucky staff under the arm of another swordsman. In the end, Saito had felled enough of those nearest to him that their bodies blocked the way of the ones behind them, and he was able to make a try for the very narrow tunnel where he had thrown Kenshin.

It  _was_  a tight squeeze. He had to wriggle some in a most undignified way where the rurouni had simply slid through. Halfway through, Saito heard Kenshin scream.

He nearly froze at the sound of it, and the volume from so thin a chest that made it and then began to slither faster than before when he had been merely trying to outdistance the groping hands of the minotaurs reaching into the little hole after him.

His larger size made his exit easier than Kenshin's had been, and he did notice the skid marks and disturbed stones of the smaller man's rough landing. He barely gave it more than a glance. Another very short hesitation when he saw the mutilated woman's corpse, three or four days old to his distracted guess. He stepped over a wolf's corpse, the ragged animal lying in a pool of its own blood. What the hell were such animals doing here?

When he reached Kenshin, there was already someone there. A very large, broad-shouldered man with a long cloak thrown over his shoulders. Kenshin was clinging to him, sobbing with all the abandon of a child. The big man himself seemed almost as lost, the lines of his face tense with an unidentifiable emotion. Saito saw his right hand held the wooden hilt of a bloodied sword—likely he was the one who had slaughtered the wolves. The left hand hovered for a moment over Kenshin, until it finally lowered and put gentle pressure on the weeping man's back.

"Who are you?" the man asked suddenly.

Saito blinked. For a moment, he thought he was speaking to Kenshin, though it had seemed from the very familiar way they were acting they should have known each other. Then the man turned his head slightly, intense and piercing eyes glaring in a way that immediately put Saito in mind of the first time he had met the gaze of Hitokiri Battousai.

The realization that he was, in fact, the one being addressed came a beat later, and Saito's temper was instantly fouled. He was  _not_  accustomed to being made to feel stupid.

Still, he held onto his irritation, fished a cigarette from a pocket. He very briefly considered his alias of Fujita Goro; then, looking over the man and the way he allowed the rurouni to cry against him, he instead answered simply, "Saito Hajime," and lit his cigarette with one of his few remaining matches.

The man blinked slowly, eyes lingering on Saito's face as if he couldn't believe it.

"Hiko Seijuro," he introduced himself shortly, then he turned back to the redhead, released his sword to lie close by his knee, and in slow, unhurried movement, he pressed Kenshin away from his chest.

Saito saw Kenshin's face, red and puffy and tears still streaming down his face, though the sobs had tapered off. He also saw new, fresh wounds seeping through ripped and torn clothing. Kenshin did not meet the bigger man's eyes, keeping his head ducked. The two were still for a moment in this position before Hiko reached beneath his cloak. First, he came out with a sake jar, and then a small clay cup.

Kenshin's good hand was shaking too much to hold the cup, so it was taken from him and the man held it, carefully feeding the sake to him, Hiko's hand large but steady and gentle under the cup and Kenshin managed to get the first cup down with nary a spill. Hiko filled the cup again and helped him drink it. Then again, and again until the hitch in the redhead's breathing stopped, the trembling ceased, and he began to look distinctly flushed and bleary.

The sake was set aside, and Saito watched as the man began to peel away the front of the ruined jacket, exposing shallow scores of wolf claws. None too deep or too serious but all bleeding vigorously.

Still in complete silence, the cloaked man coaxed Kenshin to lie down on the stone floor, absently brushing aside stones that were in the way. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kenshin was entirely obedient as he was eased down, and merely closed his eyes when the man began to wash his wounds with sake.

He started when Hiko took his left arm, rightly associating anyone fooling around with the tortured limb with pain, but he subsided under a stern glance, lying still as best he could as his hand was unwrapped. The bandaging was old, dirty and stained in spite of Sanosuke's effort to wash it for re-use at the hot springs. The hand beneath was, amazingly, better than it had looked like it might be. Effort had been made to ward off infection, so while the wound was raw and seeping, and the flesh torn again from Kenshin's efforts to climb the felled bridge, there was no festering. Not yet.

Hiko's face was expressionless as he irrigated the wound with the sweet-smelling alcohol. Kenshin was quiet throughout, writhing a little, but otherwise trying to be still.

Still not a word had been spoken. Saito raised his eyebrows when Hiko brought out a small bag from somewhere under his cloak, from which he pulled several rolls of clean new bandages. Evidently, this man came here prepared.

He stood, helping Kenshin to his feet. He stripped away the bloody remains of the hakama, shredded now the point it no longer protected but the most essential modesty. More wounds were treated on his legs and thighs. Saito noticed the way the cloaked man's eyes loitered on individual bruises and welts, almost as if counting or taking stock of the signs of abuse and undernourishment.

Kenshin's wounds were bandaged, neatly and skillfully, and in a display of foresight more impressive even than the thought to bring bandages, new clothing was pulled from Hiko's travel bag.

Kenshin, now very drunk, was more hindrance than help in dressing himself. Hiko spoke finally, impatiently snapping, "Be still!" and Kenshin desisted, staring muzzily forward as his arms were worked through the sleeves of a deep red gi, the ties of the new hakama tied neatly about his waist. The clothes were of the right size, as were the tabi and sandals also brought forth from the travel bag. This man knew him well.

The rurouni was teetering by the time the man put away the leftover rolls of bandages, the cup, and tied his sake to his belt. Hiko caught him, lifted him easily into his arms. Kenshin was small, seeming even smaller held this way by his benefactor. Still, decently dressed and shod for the first time, he looked better. Human again. The flush of drink on his face gave the illusion of health, and both his expression and his body were relaxed as he rested his head on the caped man's shoulder and sleepily closed his eyes, as if certain beyond all doubt that he was safe.

"You're not part of this conspiracy to harm him."

"No," Saito said.

Hard eyes fell on the discarded jacket Kenshin had been wearing, the distinctive sign of "aku" somehow having managed to survive where the rest of the garment was beyond hope. Perhaps he had met or seen Sanosuke because he asked, "His friends are nearby?"

"We were separated," Saito said. "They're somewhere a level above here." Hiko nodded and turned away from him, presumably going in search of them.

Saito bent to retrieve Aoshi's kodachi, wiped it quickly on the remains of Sanosuke's jacket and took it with him.

* * *

 

Kenshin's father seemed to know where he was going, a fact for which Saito would not begrudge him, however much he disliked the fact that his own sense of direction was destroyed now that he couldn't see the sun or stars or feel the wind.

Kenshin's  _father_? Saito frowned at himself, not certain where that thought had come from, or even if it was correct. It made sense in some ways, but not in others. For one thing, Hiko and Kenshin did not share a surname, though there could have been a number of reasons for this, from possible illegitimacies to one or both of them living by a name different from the ones given to them at birth.

There was also the fact that they didn't look a thing alike, the two of them as different from one another as they could possibly be. Physical resemblance suggested they weren't related at all. Yet there  _were_  similarities, subtle ones. Mannerisms, facial expressions, or the way their hands behaved on the hilts of their swords…

They stopped once, a short break in which Hiko had Kenshin sit down for a bandage change and then made him eat pieces of bento, sitting in front of him with his arms crossed in a posture that suggested the rurouni would eat every crumb of what he was given if he knew what was good for him, and Hiko was going to be watching closely to make certain he did.

This was interesting. Kenshin's manner with this man was wholly different than with any of his friends. He had not made a single attempt to speak, nor would he look the bigger man directly in the face. But he wasn't withdrawn, being mostly aware of everything going on at least within a few feet around him. He was simply…subdued. Saito considered this might have been because of the cry earlier, or partly fatigue, but didn't think so. Kenshin seemed, perhaps, somewhat afraid of Hiko. He was reassured by his presence, comforted by it. Saito could see layers of fear and pain and confusion had been swept away in ways Kenshin's friends couldn't manage, and Hiko hadn't said anything Saito was aware of other than the terse, "Be still!" hours before.

And still, a small but solid sense of fear. Like a son with a strict father, never entirely certain the wrong thing done or said that could result in being whacked upside the head.

Hiko didn't look inclined to hit him, though. And rigidly stern as his face was, his hands were gentle when he changed Kenshin's wrappings, and Kenshin did not flinch away from him.

At length, Saito grew bored with trying to deduce the truth himself and asked directly, "Are you his father?"

Hiko was startled by the question, his arms dropping a little as his face swung toward Saito. Kenshin looked up too, small piece of hardtack he had been forcing himself to eat under Hiko's austere gaze held halfway toward his mouth, first opened to receive it and then remaining so in surprise.

He looked up at Hiko for the first time, mouth still open. Then blinked once, and then said, "Are you, Master?"

Hiko stared at Kenshin for ten heartbeats before he answered, dark eyes fixed on his questioning face, slightly narrowed. "Kenshin," he said softly. "You know I'm not."

Kenshin stared back for nearly as long, then turned his face away.

Hiko wasn't satisfied with this, however, and reached out to grasp Kenshin's chin, turning his face back to his. "You  _know_  I'm not," he said. "Why would you ask like you didn't?" His voice was calm, but his face was slightly strained.

"I d-didn't…" Kenshin whispered shakily. He closed his eyes. "I…I'm sorry. I…I g-get confu…confused. I'm sorry."

Hiko let him go and sat back. Another long moment went by. Then he said, "Finish eating, Kenshin."

"Yes, Master."

Hiko did not offer Saito any of the bento, and he did not eat any of it himself. When he deemed the brief rest over, Hiko made Kenshin drink another two cups of sake and then pulled him to his feet, and set an arm around his shoulders to support him and began walking again.

Saito followed thoughtfully behind.

* * *

 

Hikaru couldn't confess to much of an appetite, but he ate a little of a dried fish snack that had been one of Tan's favorites. He  _could_  admit readily that he missed his cousin but might have settled for one of his attendants. As it was, not even Hoshi or Oaka had come back.

He heard voices. Just from time to time, so indistinctly that he could only make out every fourth word. He might have dismissed them as his own madness. Sanity had no value to a dead man. Or at least, not  _this_ dead man. But he had lived deep under the earth for far too long not to understand the strange directions sounds can take when they bounce off the solid stone instead of passing through it like wood or paper. A voice next to one's ear could come from a mouth tunnels away.

So if he was hearing language, that meant that people—not minotaurs—were nearby. It wasn't likely they, whoever they were, could find his hiding place, leaving Hikaru free to wonder who they might be.

He doubted any of the prisoners were roaming about. They had feared these areas before because of Hikaru's men, but now they were probably crouching in whatever holes they could find, those who had not already come into the mercy of the minotaurs. He supposed some might soon become desperate enough to come out of hiding to search for food and water, but he didn't think enough time had passed that desperation would overcome terror. A few more days, perhaps, but not just yet.

No, it had to be someone else. A few of his enforcers, perhaps, but he doubted this, too. Most of them had been dismissed or warned away just before the minotaurs were unsealed. Primal fear was more than enough to overpower whatever loyalty, mindsifted or otherwise, they had for Hikaru.

He considered it might be the intruders who had caused all of this disruption in the first place. He frowned, slowly chewing his dinner. It was  _possible_  that all of them had managed to stay together, find their hitokiri, fight their way through the minotaurs, and not get too lost coming back but…very improbable.

Hikaru finished eating and dusted his hands on his shirt. The only other explanation was that there were more uninvited guests in the labyrinth. Amazing how difficult it was to keep a secret these days. But then, he had to suppose that it was unreasonable to believe that Himura Kenshin's friends had ventured all this way and had told no one where they were going.

Fingers dancing lightly on the metal surface of his pistol, Hikaru straightened his shoulders, brightening somewhat with decision. He would go investigate.

Why not? He  _was_  beginning to feel the effects of boredom, what with all this unproductive waiting. If he wanted death, perhaps he'd meet it out there in the swift, indirect way he desired. If it was the Kamiya woman and the other trespassers, this could be his chance for revenge. Maybe they  _would_  have their hitokiri, and a good clear shot to his head, the red of it a beacon among the dark heads of his companions. A quick death, like Tan had wanted. The debt paid up at last, and after that, what did it matter? Whatever became of the labyrinth then would no longer be of Hikaru's concern.

If it was absolutely anyone else, then at least his curiosity would be satisfied. And there was, of course, his duty to defend the Mindsifter, to keep it secret. Yes, there was always and ever that.

The voices were floating out through the tunnels leading to the firepit entrance.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get there. The minotaurs' pounding had made the small tunnels unstable or so littered with rubble that it was difficult to pass through by wheelchair. Still, with the knowledge that he had nothing better to do but go back to the storeroom and wait for something to happen, he made the attempt. At times he had to leave his wheelchair to clear a path of rubble by hand, crawling on hand and knee to bat and shove aside rocks in his way. Then he would hobble or crawl back to the chair and hope the way ahead wasn't as bad.

Finally, he had to abandon his chair altogether, leaving it in the shadow of a boulder when it became obvious that it would be far easier to let his wrecked and twisted body carry him through the tunnels. It wasn't far now anyway. Hikaru held his lantern in one hand, a pistol in the other, his spare gun thrust in the back of his belt.

He kept his shoulder against the wall for support, grotesque gait wobbling and slow. His attention lapsed too deeply in keeping upright and moving forward, so that he was more surprised than anyone when he nearly walked directly into a uniformed police officer at the tunnel's end.

The officer jerked back in surprise, and Hikaru was so astonished he dropped his lantern.

The inner lip of the tunnel was plunged into darkness, causing the policeman to cry out in protest. Hikaru quickly dropped to one knee, to avoid hands groping in the dark, thinking fast.

"What?" a sharp voice from further in demanded. "What is it?"

"A boy is here, Sir!"

"A boy?"

Footsteps, coming closer. Bringing with them light from more lanterns.

Hikaru could have laughed. Centuries unnumbered since this labyrinth was born, and never once had eyes of authority gazed on its tunnels, the most informed minds in Japan, even the world, not even knowing the island existed. A seething, bottomless pit where a person could be made to disappear forever, or dangerous and unwanted knowledge could be ripped from their brains without taking their lives, most consigners not even  _wanting_  to know just how it was done. And now—police! Quaint little law-enforcers! There was little hope of the labyrinth remaining beyond the knowledge of the outside world now.

Unless…

He smiled to himself in the darkness, mentally cataloging the Patterns that had not been damaged when he had closed the wall on the Mindsifter. Maybe he could—

Quickly Hikaru set his pistol down and pushed it into a small pile of rubble. He jerked at his shirt, pulled out the tails to conceal the gun at his back. A lantern shone in his eyes, and he hastily widened his eyes and arranged his features in an expression he hoped was one of fearful innocence.

"Please help me!" he said. "I've been trapped here forever, and there are monsters everywhere!"


	27. Mistaken

Hiko's temper was bad, but it was trapped in a cold, stony anger that showed only in the lines of his face.

It was nothing he would admit in a thousand years, but there was a lump in his throat, and he could barely speak for it. Which was just as well because he didn't feel like talking and his companions were as taciturn as they could possibly be without being dead. Even if he had felt like talking, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

Kenshin walked close to him, nearly hidden under his master's cloak where one side had been drawn over him for extra warmth. His head was down, and as Hiko watched a small drop of moisture fell from his lowered face. Whether it was a tear or simply a drop of sweat, he didn't know. The lump muting Hiko grew.

Even when he was small, Kenshin's inner strength had been diamond-hard, sheltering an unyielding spirit. The trials of life chipped away at that hardness, scarred it with hardships and the boy's own tragic mistakes, but it still had always held as strongly as the day Hiko had led him from a sprawling graveyard dug by a child's hands. Now it was as if that which had protected Kenshin's strength was in splinters, the spirit within violently attacked and all that was left was...

Kenshin, drunk, stumbled, and Hiko reacted smoothly, circling an arm over the smaller man's narrow chest to support him without breaking his stride or disturbing the warmth of the cloak around them.

"I thought I told you to tell me if you were tired."

"Not tired," Kenshin whispered hoarsely.

Hiko touched the back of his hand to Kenshin's forehead and then his cheek. His apprentice's skin was still cool, if somewhat clammy. No fever, only the flush of sake.

Into the silence that followed, Kenshin whispered, "Kaoru-dono..."

Ah, so he was worried about his...landlady.

"She's here somewhere," Hiko said. That was obvious of course, but he hoped Kenshin still knew him well enough that he didn't actually have to come out and say that he wouldn't be leaving her behind.

Saito interrupted before Kenshin could say anything one way or another. "Do you know of a way out of here?"

Hiko waited a few moments before answering, and the very slight swell of impatience from behind him did not escape his notice. Saito was becoming frustrated with the situation. Hiko supposed he couldn't blame him. At the same time, his reaction to the silence—however minute—was amusing.

"There are several ways in and out of here."

"And you know of some."

"I've been told of them all."

The impatience was immediately gone. "All? By whom?"

"I didn't ask his name," Hiko said, deadpan. "He was honest about the entrances and exits, though," he added meaningfully.

Saito caught the hint easily enough and left it at that. "Then we can leave. We should take him out of here."

Hiko opened his mouth, but Kenshin jerked under his arm, turning to Saito, teeth bared. Instinctively, Hiko tightened his hold on his apprentice before he could leave the warmth of the cloak. "Everyone leaves! Not j-just I!"

Saito slowly inhaled of his cigarette, regarding Kenshin much more calmly than the redhead regarded him. "Even if you were in your right mind, you would say that. But right now you aren't exactly in a condition to make decisions for yourself."

Saito's statement was simple and logical, and not untrue. Anyone else might have perceived it as a simple, even impartial, observation. Something obvious, however callous the observer. Kenshin didn't see it that way. He thrust his body forward, but Hiko held him back still, no little bit alarmed how, even on drink, the smaller man had gone from docile and wilted to vicious and rabid with such little provocation.

Kenshin tried to speak, and several strings of words were so twisted that neither Hiko nor Saito could understand until the rurouni managed to bite out, "It's not true! I still…I still can decide!"

A  _very_  uncomfortable understanding tugged at Hiko's consciousness, and at once the choking lump was back, slamming in his throat hard and robbing him of speech even as his mind searched for something to halt this.

Saito was not so impaired. His features slanted and grew hard. "You," he said slowly, "are wounded and sick."  _And intoxicated_ , he added without speech by flicking his eyes toward the sake jar partly exposed at Hiko's hip. "This place is dangerous and it's becoming unstable. Taking care of you while wandering through this place looking for the others would be folly at this point. You've become a liability."

Hiko felt Kenshin go still next to him. The words were frosty and made even colder by the fact that there was truth to them. A lot of truth. Exactly how many forms of crippled was Kenshin right now? How useless would he be in another fight, lame and with only one good arm and his mind—

Kenshin began to tremble, his slightly lowered head bobbed once, and he swallowed several times before he looked up again. His eyes were livid, his face taught with quiet rage. His voice was a hoarse, ragged whisper. "I am not stupid now!" he said. "I have not...have not become a...a child! I am not h-helpless! I am  _not_!"

Impulsively Hiko latched onto Kenshin's shoulders and spun him around, pulling him back into the warmth of the flowing cloak that his apprentice should have inherited not all that long ago. He crushed the younger man close.

It was not so much a hug or the intention to comfort as much as it was putting a forceful stop to the conversation. He could sense the tears and the tremors coming, and he wanted them quelled. Now. He could not remember in all his life a more tormenting situation for all its lack of action. Kenshin was wrong and he was  _lying_ as if he could shield his weakness and hide all that he had lost that way. The truth was the rurouni  _was_ a liability now. He  _wasn't_  as intelligent as he had been, he  _had_ become considerably like a child, and he  _was_ almost helpless. And he knew it all. And it hurt, waves and waves of pain leeching from him in the shudders of his good right arm as his slender hand clutched at Hiko's shirt, returning an embrace his master hadn't meant to give.

Kenshin was badly wounded and illness wouldn't be long in coming with the cold and injuries, the lack of nourishment and rest. The commonsense thing to do would be to take Kenshin out of the labyrinth and leave him in the capable hands of Takani Megumi. She might have to tie him up and drug him to get him to rest and stay put when he knew his other friends were still in danger, but Hiko was sure she would manage if anyone could. Hiko could tie the knots himself. Then return to the labyrinth and extract the Kamiya girl and the others unencumbered by his apprentice's weakness. It would be swifter that way.

Yet Hiko turned away from the Wolf, dragging Kenshin with him. "Enough," he said, quite mildly. "We take him with us."

Saito's eyes narrowed in surprise, as if he hadn't considered a more rational mind than the redhead's would argue. He seemed about to say something, but Hiko half-turned back to him, all pretense of mildness gone as his own eyes glinted dangerously. "His spirit has suffered enough. I am his master. If he can no longer make decisions for himself, then  _I_  will be the one to decide for him. Now don't speak another word to him."

And without particularly caring how Saito might react to that, Hiko turned around and began marching through the tunnel, half-carrying Kenshin along under the cloak to help him keep up with the long strides.

None of this was Saito's doing, and the swordsman knew that he was only lashing out when he should have kept better discipline of his temper. But then, Saito's words  _had_  hurt Kenshin, had unkindly laid out his fears and his shame.  Enough harm had been done for a while. Taking him along could damage his body further, but his master could sense it was his innermost parts that bore the most grievous wounds. What might happen if he did force Kenshin to return without his friends, and if he was restrained—use of ropes a jest or not—while he waited and worried and wasn't able to really understand what was going on?

There was no choice here except to choose what part of Kenshin Hiko would protect. The body or the heart.

If all else failed, then he could at least consider that not stopping to take Kenshin out would shorten the trip into this hell pit all that much more.

* * *

Misao, Kaoru, Yahiko, Sanosuke, and Aoshi ran, keeping close together. There were a lot of choices in directions to make, and not a lot of time to think about them as they twisted and turned. Sano, the swiftest runner, was in the lead and made the decisions. No one second-guessed him. There was little point, as they had no idea which way led to where, regardless.

 It galled Misao to run instead of taking a stand, but it was an overwhelmingly bad idea to choose pride over discretion now.  If they could have found even one wide-open cavern they might have had a chance, but the sheer swell of numbers pressing in on them in the narrow tunnels made running the better choice.

She was in excellent shape, and naturally full of energy, but even she was becoming winded. The minotaurs were relentless.

She always had half an eye on Aoshi, so she was the only one to notice when he stumbled slightly next to her. It wasn't even enough to break his stride, but alarm spiked through Misao nonetheless. "Aoshi-sama?" she said, only loud enough for him to hear over the pounding of feet and groaning noises of their pursuers.

He gave her an odd look, sucking in the edges of his mouth. It was a boyish, insecure sort of expression, and though she had no idea what it meant it frightened her. It was so unlike Aoshi for the brief moment that it lasted he might as well have been another person. But then his mouth relaxed again and he was himself again, his eyes flicking away from her to watch where he was running, keeping Saito's lantern as steady as he could.

The hours were leaking by. Or maybe they were flying. Misao's time-sense was as fouled as anyone's. Maybe they had even spent scattered days running and fighting without rest. And for a while, it was one fight after another. They weren't even fighting to win, but to break through and keep going. She thought there must be so many minotaurs they could populate their own country.

Eventually, their opposition thinned, falling back or else just not willing to follow their prey into the particular tunnels they fled into, which was no comforting thought. Rest was found in a deep groove in a narrow tunnel with Aoshi guarding one end and Sano the other.

Yahiko lay on his back, gasping for air. Kaoru leaned over her ribs, breathing deeper and more quietly. Misao was close to throwing up herself, resting on her knees with her arms around the stitch in her own ribcage.

Kaoru spoke first. "We're lost," she said despondently.

It seemed that was obvious, but what she really meant was that, yes, they had been running around wildly since being spotted and of course had no idea where they were—if they ever had—but far more importantly, they had lost all track of Kenshin and Saito.

Sanosuke swore, low and hitching under his breath. Yahiko turned over on his side and dug his fingers into his hair. Misao looked away from them, heart hurting. For herself, for them.

The loud and fearfully close boom of the drums—the hammers—pounding the stone walls jolted them all. They gained their feet again, moving closer together. The tunnels shook as the pounding did not relent, debris raining freely on them.

"It's going to collapse," Aoshi said, his tone amazingly calm even with his voice raised over the noise.

Misao saw no need to be as composed. " _What?_ "

Kaoru said something she didn't quite catch. It sounded like, "Please, not again."

It was amazing enough to survive one cave-in as relatively uninjured as they had. They wouldn't be so lucky the next time. But just as important, if not as immediate, this would block them off from retracing their steps completely. They only got more and more lost, more distance and twists and turns away from Kenshin and Saito. And away from the only way they knew in and out of this place.

How could things be so...hopeless?

Misao hadn't realized she had closed her eyes, hadn't noticed how she was just standing there waiting for the next thing to happen until she felt a strong hand grab her arm. Opening her eyes she saw the solid features of Aoshi before he turned her around and began marching her toward Sanosuke, who was similarly pulling Kaoru to her feet and moving her in the direction opposite from the way they had come. Another few, steadying steps and they were running again.

There was no idea if it was a safe place to go. Safe from either falling rocks, the inevitable collapse of the tunnel, or from the minotaurs, but for now it was the only other option besides sitting still and waiting for doom in one form or another to come to them.

* * *

Aoshi could recall only two things. One thing was the lantern. He remembered the way the light had sputtered and almost gone out at the sudden wind pressure. He could see clearly how it was buried a moment later, and then there was nothing but blackness.

 He also remembered how he had latched onto Misao's shinobi clothing and flung her toward Yahiko. Yahiko had been in a good spot, against a very large rock that had already fallen, forced down by Kaoru, and the both of them kneeling and covering their heads with the realization that they could run no more. He had not the time to look for Sanosuke. It didn't matter. He propelled Misao toward Yahiko's back and hoped she had the sense to follow their example.

Then the light was gone and he could not see her.

Rocks hit him. Unable to get to a safer place of his own, and deprived of the sight needed to find one, he ducked and covered his own head, pressing his back into the hardness of rocks that had already smashed into the ground near him. His teeth clenched when one of the girls cried out.

He thought he might have been hit in the head, but he couldn't be certain. He considered it might have happened and he just forgot. That seemed to be happening a lot lately, forgetting, even things just moments past. But he could feel a terrible lightheadedness, and nausea. He tried to listen. He couldn't hear the others, or the drums—the pounding hammers—or the falling rocks.

Had time passed? How much time?

He couldn't move, and there was nothing to see. It occurred to him to call out, but when he drew in a breath to do so he only collected dust into his lungs. By reflex, he began to cough.

It was as if the noise were some sort of signal. Rocks above him were being moved and shifted. He gained sight again, fire from another torch, or maybe the same one re-lit. He felt strong hands grab the back of his jacket. He thought it might be Sanosuke at first, but the hands were singularly ungentle as he was hauled out of the debris that had fallen on him and more hands grabbed his arms, twisted them behind his back. His arms, they were numb. Strangely numb. A torch was thrust almost directly into his face, and he instinctively flinched back from the fire.

"What do you think?" someone from behind him muttered.

Aoshi blinked, almost as blind from the light as he was from the darkness.

"He's so clean," someone else, a woman, said. "He's shaven and his clothes smell like clean air. He's got meat on his bones. He's one of  _them_."

Them?  _Clean?_ He was covered with earth and rocks, his clothes torn, spotted with cuts and bruises of assorted vintage, and had a few days' growth of beard on his chin and he was "clean" and "shaven"?

His vision began to adjust some, and he saw them. People. Several people. Dirty, disheveled, gaunt with hunger and so ragged with neglect that by comparison, Aoshi  _did_  look kempt, well-fed and clothed. But they weren't mad, not minotaurs, and not with Penna.

"Who are you?" he asked.

He was ignored, while the woman and a shirtless man talked quietly to each other for a few moments before the man approached him.

His eyes were small, sunken in, and he had a beaten, harassed air to him that usually came with one who had been imprisoned for a very long time.

"We want a way out of here," he said without preamble. "Show us a way, and your death will be swift and painless."

Aoshi blinked at him, incredulous. Such a request and with it, such a reward.

"I don't know a way out of here," he said and regretted speaking instantly.

He was, if it were possible, just a little more surprised at himself than the man questioning him. He had not intended to speak at all, at least not until he had thought a little over this situation, and yet his mouth had uttered words. The wrong words. Ironic that they were the truth, but he hadn't become such a fool yet that he didn't know this was  _not_  what these people wanted to hear.

Somehow, he hadn't expected the blow. He should have, considering that these people had just informed him they had every intention of killing him. Certainly, they shouldn't mind hurting him a little first.

The first was a casual backhand, the kind meant to punish a wayward mouth. His head snapped to the side, but before he could recover, there was a deep punch into his gut. They wanted to drive home that they were serious. Aoshi believed them.

"There is a way out of here somewhere," the man went on, almost conversationally. "I don't know why you've done this to us. I don't know what I've done to deserve to be here. I don't know why the food and clean water have stopped coming, and I really don't know why a plague of monsters has been unleashed on us now. To clear us out, maybe, since most of your kind disappeared when they showed up."

"' _My kind'_?" Aoshi repeated, straightening. The ones holding his arms behind him tightened their grip, twisting his arms. He barely felt it. "I don't know who you think I am, but I only just arrived here..." He paused, not exactly certain how long he had been in the labyrinth. A few days? A week? More? "I came here seeking a friend who was taken from his home by force."

There was a ripple of amusement through the prisoners of the labyrinth. "Well, weren't we all?" the leader drawled mockingly. "Never mind. The way out," he prompted.

Aoshi took a shallow breath. He knew the way he came in. A hole over a very cold pool. But there wasn't a way back up. He might have shown it to them if he could, but even to save his life he did not know how to get back there now. His sense of direction was completely gone. He did not have a path back to the Mindsifter. But they would never believe it.

"I am not who you think I am," he repeated, feeling the uselessness of it, the irritation of wasted breath. He seemed to give up and let go as he spoke, his eyes roving around where the light touched, the destruction of part of the tunnel ceiling and walls. He didn't see his friends anywhere.

He also became aware he was a lot more hurt than he had been able to pay attention to until this moment. His arms still had a numbness...had he dislocated a shoulder? He hoped not; this was truly a bad time. His entire being was keening with thirst. He was bleeding from somewhere, could feel the hot warmth soaking into one pant leg, but couldn't gain enough stock of himself to think of where the wound was exactly. There were too many points of pain, and of numbness, to focus on any one.

He tensed to try to shake off the deadened feeling as best he could and ready himself for a fight, but the woman said, "Have you found anyone else?"

There had been a few men sifting through the rubble, but in a slow, unhurried manner. "Might take a while," one said with a shrug.

"Fine. When you dig them out, bring them."

Aoshi's vision swam. He took a few more, shallow breaths, wondering why he seemed so hurt, but wasn't actively hurt _ing_. This was the worst time yet for weakness.

_Prisms…prisms in the sunlight…twirling haphazardly, seeming without pattern…patterns…Patterns…_

_Oh…oh, no…_

Too late, much, much too late, Aoshi jerked back, his mouth actually falling open in horror at his complete and utter blackout—and a costly one he realized, as he watched the man pulling the very prisms he had been daydreaming of out of his coat, clinking them together. Spikes of panic prompted Aoshi to shut his eyes against the movements, afraid to look directly at the thing. An image of Okina floated behind his eyelids, but there was no time to wonder why as his ears were assaulted with an outraged cry from his captors, followed by the sound of the Shortsifter being flung away.

" _You_!" someone snarled, and Aoshi opened his eyes again, to find the woman facing him this time, anger etched across her haggard face.

It was a pitifully small chance proving he was not a Penna now.


	28. Maybe

Aoshi's memories were faulty these days, but he was fairly certain he had never been in such a situation before. He was better than that, wasn't he?

At first, he had thought to endure what he could because he didn't want to hurt them. Then, he realized that he really, truly was quite helpless. It was an alien feeling, something cold and fearful and twisted inside him like a snake curled up inside his belly.

His first mistake was letting them take his legs. Or perhaps it was in assessing himself. He had been correct that there was a dislocated shoulder. He hadn't even noticed his remaining weapon had been taken, and there were at least...two? Maybe three moments he blanked out, his thoughts threading into nothing until he managed to shake himself to awareness again and found that his body was automatically struggling without him, but not with any helpful results.

His martial arts were gone. Not quite... _gone_ , he just couldn't gather any sense about him. It kept fleeing him. If only there was a little more light or something else for his mind to focus on... For some reason, he thought that the stark lack of friendly faces was one of the reasons his mind kept shrinking away and not letting the rational parts try to get a handle on his situation. Which was utterly, unreasonably  _ridiculous._ Since when did one expect to see friendly faces in the midst of battle?

And then, how often had he fought  _alone_? Wasn't there a time, not at all long ago, that he expected never to see a friendly face again for the rest of his life? A  _short_  life… A life another man had forced him to look at again for the value he had tried to throw away…

The blank moments cost him dearly. They had rope made from knotted strips of clothing, which was for some reason soaking wet when they wound it about his arms and his chest. They took his coat at some point, and he heard a soft thump, something that was in his pockets falling out and rolling away into the shadows. Aoshi tried to recall what it was, but couldn't think of what it could be other than a brief flash of alarm and the hope one of the others managed to find it—if they were alive and could get away from the diggers these people were sure to leave behind.

The third and final time he lost track of what was going on, he came back directly into a nightmare. His legs were tied at the knees and ankles and the people were—as far as he could tell—fully intent on killing him.

He wasn't in the tunnel where he and the others had been buried under the fallen rubble, but in a much wider cavern, full of labyrinth prisoners. It was all the more alarming that he could not at all remember moving or being moved into these new chambers.

Fear spiked through him. So cold. So unfamiliar. The lack of control on his own feelings frightened him more than anything. Something fragile and wounded, caught somewhere between his heart and his mind trembled. It was a sickening sensation, and Aoshi could see for the first time just how vulnerable he truly was now that so much of his mental shielding was damaged.

Angry, twisting hands caught his shirt, ripping it apart until it fell away from his back and hung at his sides, caught in his belt and by one intact sleeve on the right side. He was forced to his knees and bent forward. His hands were forced in front of him to be secured to a metal spike he was certain hadn't been there just a moment before.

Panic arose afresh, again washing over him before he could force it back. When had they driven that spike in the ground, just in front of him? How could he not have noticed?

He couldn't block the fear. His thoughts spun out of control. He couldn't recall a thing, not a single calming technique. It was like he had forgotten how—but how could he? It had all been with him, at least back on the boat that had borne them to the archipelago.

With a jolt, he realized what they were preparing to do. It wasn't that he hadn't known from the moment they bared his back, it was only that there was so much else to distract him. But it was only in that second that he felt the first bite of the lash on his skin.

He didn't cry out, however ill-prepared he was. That, at least, seemed as it should be, but he did jerk with surprise and pain. He felt another, then a third and a fourth. Well-timed, letting the pain inflicted flow and ebb to the fullest.

Aoshi seized control of his muscles. In his face, his arms, his shoulders. Tried to slip on a stoic mask since, for the first time in his remembered life, it did not happen naturally.

Anger flared for a moment, but on a wayward thought it dissolved into horror. They could hurt him. They could really hurt him. This pathetic, confused rabble...they were going to accomplish what some of the greatest men of this generation could not.

The only thing he had left to his advantage was the fact that they didn't know yet how much more vulnerable he was than he should have been.

On the other hand, he didn't know how long it might take for them to find out.

* * *

"Two hundred seventeen…two hundred eighteen…two hundred…hundred…"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen. Two hundred twenty."

"Keep counting, Kenshin. You can do it quietly if you're out of breath, but you'd better know what number we're on if I ask you. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. Two hundred twenty-two…"

From behind them, Saito let out a small breath. "Why," he asked, his voice breathy with exasperation (or perhaps partly exertion), "are you having him do that?"

"It's good for him," Hiko murmured, deadpan. He sounded like he knew what he was doing to his own ears, but he really hadn't the slightest idea if having Kenshin count the stairs they climbed was exercising the redhead's wits. He  _had_ noticed, though, the repetitive and single-minded task had seemed to relax his apprentice's stutter. That was something, at least.

"What number are we on, Kenshin?"

"Two hundred forty-four."

God of mercy. Hiko had never seen so many stairs at once. That moron back on the island had not seen fit to mention hundreds and hundreds of upward-leading stairs, some of which were so old they crumbled underfoot and nearly caused a fall or two for someone even as sure-footed as a swordsman of Hiko Seijuro's caliber. And even if he had made mention of it, the stupid clutch wouldn't have foreseen the master trying to guide, haul, or carry his apprentice up every one of those stairs.

The fact that Saito hadn't once complained other than a soft grunt when a step broke under one of his shoes only served to irritate him more.

He really hated this place.

If Kenshin wasn't here, he would have hated it a little less. He could admit that, if just to himself. It was only that every discomfort Hiko had to face, it was visited a hundredfold on his weakened apprentice. He had not considered the stairs would be so long when he had coaxed Kenshin into walking them.

Several minutes passed in shadows and steady climbing. Kenshin spoke out loud without being asked when they reached four hundred. Hiko nodded when the redhead looked up for approval.

Several dozen more steps. Hiko supported Kenshin, an arm around his waist to take what weight he could, but the steps persisted, ever and ever upward. It was becoming too much of an effort for Kenshin to lift a foot, place it on the next step and pull his weight up with it. His legs were trembling with effort, his new clothes damp with sweat.

More to distract him than because he wanted to know the answer, Hiko asked, "What number are we on, Kenshin?"

The redhead didn't seem to hear, his face down as if all his concentration was on getting onto the next step, back bent slightly like the sandal on his foot was made of something very heavy.

"Kenshin?"

"I...I don't know!" Kenshin's breath drew in sharply, wavering, and was let out in a small, helpless and defeated little sound that caused alarm to spike through Hiko's heart. "I d-don't know...I don't know...I don't know..." Kenshin continued to repeat, bending a little more on Hiko's arm like his back and knees weren't willing to support him any longer.

"All right. All right!" Hiko said quickly, and only some disused, fatherly instinct warned him from shouting as he tried to silence his apprentice. Quickly he swung Kenshin into his arms, the fast movements and sudden weightlessness jolting the redhead enough that he quieted again. His head rested on his master's shoulder, eyes open but unfocused. He still trembled, though maybe more with nerves than from exertion.

Hiko carried him the rest of the way at a brisk pace, fighting the irrational feeling that there was something just there on the stairs that he had to leave behind as quickly as possible. Maybe there was.

When they finally, finally reached the top, it leveled out onto a floor that looked like it had once been tiled before it had been broken up by the shifting caused by the minotaurs' pounding. Hiko's calves were paining him. It was high time for a rest.

He sank to the floor, back against the wall, and eased Kenshin down beside him.

"I don't know what you're going to do," Saito said.

Hiko looked up at him, frowning deeply. Saito didn't look at him; he was staring at the top of Kenshin's head. "I don't know what you're going to do," he repeated more slowly.

Mildly irritated, Hiko said, "Why would it be up to me to do anything?"

"You're doing something right now, aren't you?" Saito said. But it was more as a statement than a question. Hiko opened his mouth but Saito, his eyes still lingering on Kenshin, didn't see and spoke on, "He would be dead if you hadn't come. All the same, he was probably better off without you."

Somehow the statement, though unexpected, didn't faze Hiko. "How is that?"

Saito's eyes moved to his. "His friends. The Kamiya girl and the others. With them, he was fighting. He knew his wounds, but he still thought he could protect them. With you, I think he feels more keenly just how weak he is. It's always been that way with you, hasn't it?"

Hiko was stunned for a moment, but only for a moment. Then he was angry. Not enraged, and not wrathful. Just a deep but calm anger.

But again, Saito spoke up first. "Not any of my damned business how you raised him, huh? Well, you did a lousy job of it."

Perhaps Hiko was tired, or maybe it was stress and uncertainty that had been clinging to him since he received that message from Aoi-ya what felt like a life-age ago that had finally begun to weigh him down, but his reaction wasn't what anyone might have expected.

In his mind, he wondered if Saito was  _trying_  to pick a fight for some reason, but Hiko's anger just gusted through him like a hot wind and then died all at once, leaving behind an empty and shaky sort of feeling that he didn't care for at all.

"Maybe I did," he said softly. "Maybe I did do a  _lousy_  job. Maybe I spent too much time teaching him how to fight that I didn't teach him  _why_  to fight. Maybe I thought all those swordsmanship philosophies were enough to point him in the right direction. Maybe I considered keeping him alive more important than giving him reasons to live. Maybe I thought feeding him and pouring alcohol on his cuts was enough and he could work out the details for himself. Maybe I regret the distance I've held him, and maybe that distance was because I knew my death would come at his hands for the sake of our sword style. Maybe I regret convincing myself that the reason I still live after the completion of his training was because he wanted to uphold his vow not to kill rather than the fact that he simply didn't want me to die. Maybe every flaw in his idiotic personality is entirely my fault, even when half the work had already been done for me by his mother and father. Maybe it's  _my_  failings that are the reasons that Katsura Kogoro didn't find some other boy to be his hitokiri, and that now Kenshin seems to be responsible for every weight on Japan from deep-fried madmen wanting to take over to a child's night terrors because his father uses Hitokiri Battousai to scare him into doing his chores to some fool who couldn't earn himself a glorious enough suicide." Hiko's voice, though never reaching a shout, had risen with each "maybe", and at this last, he rose to his feet. "Or maybe," he said, looking Saito directly in the face, "it  _isn't_  any of your damned business how I raised him."

To his credit, Saito remained silent and didn't tug any further threads of challenge. The expression on his face was a grim one, the look of a man who had successfully managed to tease out an answer to a question he had not believed he could have gotten directly...and then some. But perhaps he hadn't expected to watch the other man so ruthlessly stab himself in the heart so many times in only the space of a few breaths.

Whatever Saito was feeling was as much his own business as ever, but his eyes moved from Hiko's to rest on Kenshin and the way they stayed there made Hiko glance at his apprentice as well.

He had not noticed, until that moment, the way Kenshin had stood up also and had his only good hand gripping Hiko's shirt underneath the cloak, slender fingers twisted in the material. Or the way he had been insistently tugging, like a child seeking to gain attention. He was quietly crying again. Hiko was suddenly and completely certain Kenshin didn't even realize there were tears running down his face.

Hiko caught Kenshin's hand to still the jerking on his shirt. "What's the matter now?"

Kenshin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open and tears streaming down his face.

He looked so young, like that. Young and lost and horribly hurt. And what had caused it  _now_? Why were there tears? At a loss, Hiko quickly went back over the things he had just said, trying to find the moment when he could have said something to hurt him.

"Yahiko told me," Kenshin said at last.

Hiko blinked. "Told you what?"

"Told me. Wh-when you fought a...a giant m-man in Kyoto."

Hiko shook his head, not understanding. "What of it, Kenshin?"

"Yahiko said...said you t-told him he was m-more loyal to his master than...than I am to mine."

It was now Hiko's turn to open his mouth and have nothing to say at once.

Kenshin's took a deep, shuddering breath. "But...but I... I would l-lose you anyway. No m-matter what I did, you would b-be gone. If I st-stayed, and...and finished m-my training, or...or if I l-left... G-giving me the t-technique would have killed you. K-killed you and y-you wouldn't have told me before...b-before I killed you. Ama...amaka...amaka-"

He broke off, and his head dropped into his good hand, but not before Hiko saw the awful, stricken expression. That he had so much trouble saying the name of the technique seemed to be a back-breaking last straw.

Hiko drew in a deep breath of his own and turned, thinking to tell Saito to get lost for a while only to find that the Wolf had decided to excuse himself already, walking off into the shadows with his back to them. Directing his attention back to his apprentice, he gently grasped either side of Kenshin's head, turning the small, runny nose and big wet eyes up to face him.

"Amakakeru. Say it."

"A-amakakeru..."

"Ryu no..."

"...R-ryu no..."

"Hirameki."

"Hirameki."

"Again. Amakakeru..."

"...Ryu no Hirameki."

Hiko nodded approvingly, his dark eyes never leaving Kenshin's. "Now altogether. Say it."

"Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki."

"Do you remember it?"

Kenshin nodded.

"Then it hasn't left you. It's still there. So dry your tears."

Hiko let go of Kenshin's face and watched in frustration as Kenshin tried to obey him, swiping at his eyes and holding his breath against soft little hiccups.

_You told him he was more loyal to his master than I am to mine. But I would lose you anyway. No matter what I did, you would be gone._

Hiko grit his teeth, frustration mounting. He really, really didn't know what to do right now. To say.

He tried. "I'm still here," he offered. "Like I've always been."

He regretted that as soon as he said it, and when Kenshin lowered his arm from his eyes he could see his student had found no solace in that remark either. After all, it wasn't exactly true. There had been a time, a very long time in fact, when the two of them were very far apart from each other indeed. Far enough apart it had not looked like they would see each other again until one of them died, if even then. Kenshin had been unable to swallow his concern for the world outside his place as Hiko Seijuro's student, so he had left. For a while, Hiko felt a sense of abandonment. And then, though he hadn't understood it at the time, a sense of  _having_  abandoned.

That was ludicrous. It had been Kenshin's decision to leave.

_What was I supposed to do?! Back then? Knock him over the head and tie him to the storage chest for the next five years?_   _Assuming all those rope-escaping lessons were just a waste of my time!_

And what if he  _had_  managed to find the right words, the reasons he needed to convince Kenshin to stay? What would things be like at this time, had they turned out the way he had wanted? In a sort of dazed horror, Hiko thought of the possibility of Kenshin having finished his training as planned. Perhaps if Hiko had put off the last thing that was left untaught for a small while, polished on what Kenshin already knew, he thought maybe his apprentice would have mastered Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu at perhaps age sixteen or so. He would have taken the name, even if he was too much of a midget to wear the damn cape. Hiko himself would be dead of course, because no sword of any quality would have been able to protect the both of them in the final moment of the succession technique the way the sakabato had. For Kenshin, life would go on. Things would happen. Perhaps he would have wandered for a while anyway. There were battles to be fought as well as roads to be walked. Kenshin might have chosen an apprentice, perhaps someone not unlike that fierce-eyed boy who studied under Kenshin's landlady. Kenshin would have been a good instructor; he had the patience for it, the innate kindness to make each word of praise or criticism matter. And then, he too would pass on into the fate of each master. And then the cycle would begin again at his end.

It began as a shiver in Hiko's heart, and spread out before his inner eye. For the first time, he realized that this was somehow not what he had really wanted for Kenshin. For the apprentice, for the successor to the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu, yes. For all purposes of tradition, this was the way it was meant to be. He could never know the details, only compare what his own life had been like, and what his own master had told him of his, and the master before him.

But for Kenshin? Kenshin, as he was. Not Kenshin the apprentice or even Kenshin the swordsman, but just Kenshin himself. The one he saw in all the small memories...the moments that had nothing to do with training. The smiles young Kenshin used when his eyes rested on his favorite things or ate foods that he liked. Simple joys in his eyes in those rare and far-between moments of fun, like when he went swimming or climbed trees.

Whatever Kenshin's choices had been, the roads he had walked had been lonely and unhappy ones. And that had been a problem all along, had it not? It had been  _the_  problem, something Kenshin had  _never_  been able to shake, to escape on his own, without help. From a certain point of view, the reason that he was happy at the dojo in Tokyo was because he had a small group of friends that rescued him from that path, and the reason he couldn't fall back into it however hard the winds of fate blew over him was because they were too stubborn to let him go.

_And where was I?_

Indeed, where had he been all this time? Even in the distance, when he had had it in him to look after the Shirobeko while his apprentice recovered from his battles with Shishio and his men within, he had heard the sounds of Kenshin laughter mingling with those who held him precious, Hiko still hadn't managed to get it. Still hadn't figured out this very thing that had been consistently struggling for his attention ever since he had started avoiding drinking his sake in Kyoto all this time later.

_I was training an apprentice, not raising a son_ , he growled to himself, and not for the first time! But the thought was half-hearted and lacked vehemence. If that wasn't a flat lie, then Kenshin's spirit wouldn't have been lingering in Hiko's home, disturbing his sleep and ruining his appetite.

_Maybe I regret the distance I've held him, and maybe that distance was because I knew my death would come at his hands for the sake of our sword style._

Hiko breathed in slowly and let out a long, quiet breath. Never, never in his forty-four years of life had he been this confused and indecisive, not even in his adolescence. If this boy  _wasn't_  going to be the death of him, then he was at least going to drive him mad. All the things that had come tumbling from his mouth—before Saito Hajime no less—they had meaning and yet he had never said such things to himself before. Perhaps it was all true. Maybe more than he really knew.

But maybe...maybe there could still be another chance...

"Master?" Kenshin's soft whisper brought him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

Kenshin rubbed at the corner of his eye with the heel of his right hand.

"Are you tired now?"

Kenshin nodded, eyes downcast.

"So am I."

Kenshin's eyes came back up, slightly surprised. One side of Hiko's mouth lifted in wry amusement. Everyone got tired. Even Hiko Seijuro. No shame in it.

Gently, he put his hands on Kenshin's shoulders and turned him toward the wall. "I'll fix us a place," he said softly.

* * *

Saito explored a small way into a few interwoven tunnels, one of which was nothing but a complete circle back into a much larger tunnel, and another that was almost a series of loops. This part of the labyrinth had been done when the architect was in a creative mood.

When he got back to the place where he left Hiko and Kenshin, he was glad to see the former hitokiri was no longer threatening to dissolve into a puddle again. Saito was coming to the point where he really hated that but he had decided against the wisdom of another good, stabilizing smack across the redhead's face in the presence of Hiko Seijuro. Let _him_ handle it.

But when he reached them, he found a surprising little scene. They were both against the wall a short distance away from the hundreds of steps they had just climbed. Hiko sat with his sword on his shoulder and his back to the wall in a relaxed but guarded posture. His cloak had been folded once and laid across the ground beside him, with Kenshin curled up on it, his knees pulled up and his arms inside his gi for warmth. His back was against Hiko's hip. Glancing at his face, Saito saw the light flush there, his mouth slightly open and his breathing deep. This, and the jar and cup beside it were signs that he had been dosed with sake again.

"Naptime, is it?"

Hiko opened one eye. "When was the last time you slept, Saito?" was all he said. And without waiting for an answer, he closed the eye again.

Saito watched them another moment before sighing very softly before he, too, sat down against the wall and rested his sword within easy reach. Sleeping wasn't the easiest or safest thing to do in a place like this, but it  _had_  been a while, and right now, there was nothing better to do.

* * *

Four men had been left behind to look through the rubble for survivors. For them, this was not a day when Kamiya Kaoru was going to make a decent prisoner or hostage.

Noticing movement from under a point in the fallen rocks, they had worked to dig her out while she had shifted from below. Only when she was free, emerging out of the last layer of rubble with an angry cry did they realize what they were up against. A dirty, wild-haired, and extremely pissed female with a big stick and precise knowledge of just how to use it.

Of all four men, only one had the good sense to keep his distance at the sight of her. But the other three did not share his keen sense of danger and moved to detain her. One ended up skidding down a pile of rocks grasping his face, another flew several feet head first and limbs sprawling, and the third fell where he stood, knocked out completely.

The man who had not rushed Kaoru felt even less desire than before to do so. He backed away quickly from the wrathful woman and bumped smack into someone else.

Jumping away and whirling, he found himself eye-level with a bruised and heaving bare chest. Raising his gaze, he found a pair of angry brown eyes, only vaguely less wrathful than those of the woman's.

"I am  _sick_  of getting rocks dropped on my head," Sanosuke said. His right hand snagged the front of the man's ratty shirt and he lifted him off his feet. "I'm sick of it always being dark. I'm sick of never being able to breathe fresh air. I'm sick of being hungry and thirsty, I'm sick of fighting and running from freaks, and I'm  _very_  sick of those freaks hurting my friends!"

While Sano talked, Kaoru had forced an arm under the rubble and managed to assist Yahiko to his feet. He was largely unharmed, but sported many new bruises and abrasions. Misao was not far, and as lucky or unlucky as any of them in escaping serious harm. After making certain her legs still agreed to support her, Misao stepped over the body of one fallen man and began searching for Aoshi.

Fifteen minutes went by before Sanosuke—with surprisingly little roughing up—got the frightened man to talk.

The man's face was stretched taut with fear but there was anger, pain, and a streak of defiance. Still dangling in the air by Sanosuke's tireless fist he said, "We don't know what's going on. Only a little while ago, things were as they always were: hell. But then they let the demons back into hell, and they're eating us now. Guess you guys got sick of feeding us because the food's stopped being delivered and now we got monsters in here to clean us out."

"What do you mean 'you guys'?" Yahiko said sharply.

The man seemed to notice Yahiko for the first time, and likewise Yahiko took a closer look at him. He seemed young and old at the same time, like he had not quite lived a lot of years, and yet those years had aged him past his time. His face was mostly hidden by clumps of beard that looked like he had been trying to keep in check by pulling it out with his hands, and his eyes were red-rimmed and sunken in.

"They never had little kids with them before," the man observed quietly, speaking mostly to himself.

Even after all he had been through in the past few days, Yahiko still managed to find the energy to puff up at being called a little kid, but his retort was halted when Kaoru spoke.

"He thinks we're with Penna. That means these men  _aren't_ with Penna," she said, her words soft and haunted. Yahiko swallowed. After finding Kenshin, seeing the condition he was in, and then losing him again with only  _Saito_  to look after him...

_Hang on, Kaoru. We don't need you to worry about too._

From several feet away Misao called to them, "I can't find Aoshi-sama. He isn't here."

Sanosuke grip tightened on the filthy shirt, closing off some of the man's airway. "Who are you, and where is our friend?"

Yahiko closed his eyes, crushing down a wave of hopelessness before it could spread through him. Now they had lost Aoshi as well.

Yahiko took a step forward and his foot bumped into something that rolled away. Much softer and rounder than a rock. Curious, he stooped and caught it before it got too far. He straightened, eyes widening in surprise. In his hand he held the ball of string that had been left in the island house by Penna Tan.


End file.
